It had been the simplest of decisions. Just stop mowing the lawn during May and the garden would burst into life. The growing lawn would fill with wildflowers providing a feast for insect pollinators who would, in turn, provide a tasty snack attracting robins, blackbirds, thrushes and even woodpeckers. You couldn’t help but feel that the entire BBC Springwatch team would be lurking around the corner, cameras at the ready. Not only that but I would be helping tackle pollution through using less electricity and locking away atmospheric carbon below ground. When Alice and I had first heard about Plantlife’s ‘No Mow May’ campaign earlier this year it had seemed a no-brainer. Yet now, only a few weeks later, visions of Michaela Strachan in short shorts aside, everything was going rapidly downhill.

Take today for example, I set off for work as usual but barely made it to the railway station alive. Our next door neighbour, Mr Panesar, who had always struck me as a modest, mild-mannered man had started spitting with rage when I bid him ‘Good Morning’. His protests had attracted the attention of big Fred, next door but one, who, along with his bad-tempered German Shepherd, had popped out to see what was happening. Fred waded right in.

“I’ve had it up to here, you can mow that bloody excuse for a lawn right now.”

Mr Panesar nodded vigorously in agreement, complaining rapidly and loudly with the stress of being anything less than his normal polite self magnifying his, already heavy, Punjabi accent. I finally worked things out; the dandelions in my lawn had gone to seed sending millions of little parachutes floating down the street. I tried to explain, the ‘No Mow May’ campaign had been featured in the local paper after all but, at that point, Fred’s dog, over-excited by all the shouting, managed to slip its lead and lunged at what it believed to be the source of his owner’s distress. Me.

The fact that I escaped with only a torn shirt sleeve was pure luck and, on my return that evening, I was not going to take any further chances. Head down, I crawled the last hundred yards past the neighbours’ manicured lawns and neatly trimmed hedges on my hands and knees. Once through the front gate I straightened up and hurtled up the path into the house, slamming the door with a bang.

Alice came flying out of the kitchen to see what the noise was. “What on Earth have you been up to, love? You look like you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”

I was torn, should I give up on ‘No Mow May’? I asked her what to do as, clearly, crawling past the neighbours each morning and evening was not going to be a viable option. Yet she was adamant, we vote Green for goodness sake, there were only another nine days of May to go. Maybe she should try having a word with Mrs Panesar?

I wasn’t confident that would help but, in an effort to take my mind off the problem, I persuaded the twins away from the television and outside to play cricket in the sunshine before supper. They were only nine years old yet Jamie could already bowl straight and, when Ollie could be persuaded to concentrate, he was a natural batsman directing the ball wherever he pleased. Yet the game lasted for less than ten minutes. Ollie, unnerved by a bumble bee nosing through the clover behind his crease, uncharacteristically skied the ball and ran off the lawn squealing as if he had already been stung.

Needless to say, nobody noticed where the ball fell. Once I had calmed Ollie and scolded James for calling his brother a wimp I suggested getting another ball out.

“But Dad, that was the last one. You know one’s been missing for weeks, you were the one that hit it. Ollie and I lost two more at the weekend.”

“What, you’re telling me that we’ve now lost all four balls? Four fluorescent yellow tennis balls, all vanished completely out of sight in the grass, in our back garden?”

I groaned, ‘No Mow May’ was rapidly becoming much more problematic than I had bargained for. There had been no warning about any potential hazards of stopping mowing in the article I had read. Yet it looked as if I had now lost the goodwill of the neighbours as well as the contents of an entire tin of tennis balls. Tennis balls aren’t cheap and, at this rate, I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to afford to stick to my principles.

Actually, speaking of losing things, I was struck by a thought. “Have either of you seen the tortoise recently?”

The boys just shrugged. I went inside and asked Alice.

“No, should I have?”

“I just wondered, you might have seen him on the patio hoping for a bit of lettuce?”

“But surely, feeding the pets is your job along with taking the rubbish out.” She waved a hand in the general direction of the kitchen bin which was overflowing yet again, adding pointedly. “It’s not as if you haven’t got the time, not having to mow the lawn is saving you several hours each weekend.”

I retreated outside and wandered morosely over the lawn, kicking hopefully at any tortoise shaped tussocks but without any joy. I hadn’t fed Grumps for over a week; goodness only knows where he had got to by now. The fact that the lawn was alive with small insects and the occasional butterfly flitting between flowers was of little comfort, I felt too guilty.

Later that evening, after the boys had been sent upstairs, Alice and I ate supper in silence. I was weighing the day’s events up in my mind. Could I really still justify not mowing the lawn, what would we lose next? What would Alice say if I caved in after only three and bit weeks of not mowing? Did she really feel that I was no longer doing my fair share of the chores?

Our uneasy truce held until the next day when we found that a badly spelt, anonymous note had been put through the door.

“Deer neighbors,

We all think ur garden is a disgrace. Its letting down the hole area. If you dont tidy it up ASAP we will all rite to the Council to complain.

A Friend”

“Doesn’t sound very friendly to me.” remarked Alice, turning the paper over and over in her hands to see if she could find any clues as to its provenance.

“That’s it.” I snapped, “I can’t take any more, I’ll mow the lawn tonight.”

“Are you sure? Like any bully, they’re probably all mouth and no trousers. There’s only a week left to go. We could maybe put up a sign about the Plantlife campaign?”

I snapped. “No, it’s still nine days and I do not want to be responsible for inciting a neighbourhood riot. As soon as I am back this evening I am getting out the mower.”

After breakfast I marched to the station with my head held high, ready to be challenged by all and sundry but no-one was around. Returning that evening was similarly quiet, perhaps I needn’t go ahead after all? Or was this just the traditional moment of silence before all hell breaks loose? I checked with Alice as to whether she’d heard anything or anyone had reported seeing Grumps but, unusually, no-one had spoken to her all day.

“Oh God, they’ve sent us to Coventry. This is getting so petty.”

I grabbed a glass of water, sketched hello to the boys who, to no-one’s surprise, were watching television and went outside to the shed. Liberating the mower from under the pile of children’s outdoor toys took only a minute and it wasn’t until I plugged it in that I realised the enormity of the task facing me. How do you mow grass that’s a foot high in places with a hover mower? I tried approaching it at various angles and then from overhead, lowering the mower like a blender over the lawn. All that happened was that the long stalks of grass caught in the blades which promptly ripped them out bodily, creating bald patches in the lawn.

No worries, I thought, I’ll borrow Mr Panesar’s old push mower. I bet he’ll be pleased to lend it to me, after all, it’ll mean that I’m finally dealing with the weeds. Mr Panesar was indeed more than willing to lend me the mower and I was soon marching up and down returning the lawn to its original, shorn state. My mind was elsewhere, wondering if I should plant a second buddleia for the newly displaced insects, when my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud, sharp crack. Shit! Had I hit something hard? Or maybe the overlong grass had broken the mower? I couldn’t bear to look.

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