The futile results of what we've done, will untip the balance.

My Christmas present from my folks has been opened.

The sun still trying to shine and the light was ok when I got back from work, so I decided to put that present to good use and cut the grass in the back garden.

It was all going so well as I carefully cut the tape either end of the box. Carefully unwrapping the item and reading through the instructions over a coffee, I felt mentally prepared to follow the 'assemble your lawnmower' section.
This all went well and shortly afterwards, I was the proud owner of a brand spanking new Hover-mower.
My dad obviously 'rates' this model, because last time I was over the folks' house, he asked me how I was getting on with it. His reaction to my, "Erm, having had time to yet" reply was of sheer disappointment. Not being put off, he proceeded to tell me about how many settings it had for the blades, how long the cable was, how it had 'handy clips' to keep the wires tidy and how great the grass collector box was.

After finishing cutting the grass, with what can only be described as the same amount of sweat on my face as a boxer who's just done 10 rounds with Rocky Balboa, I sat there with a fag in my hand and thought about some possibilities here:

When it comes down to lawnmowers, my dad doesn't know his arse from his elbow.

Either it was deathly quiet outside tonight or I have just become the proud owner of the noisiest Hover-mower in the street.

I own, possibly the only Hover-mower in the entire world that doesn't 'Hover'.

That aside, the grass is a lot shorter than it was and the bonus is that I got a little exercise.
With those points in mind, I have vowed to cut the grass at least 3 times a week and thus get a washboard stomach like Usher.