I’m not normally a fussy eater, but insect-free is preferred, certainly. The old “What’s worse than finding a maggot in your apple” joke, etc.
Whenever you mention the Brunel I imagine I hear the distant PUT! PUT! PUT!-put-put-put-put of a steam traction engine firing up, and the faint blast of the whistle . . .
Back lawn looked fine on Sunday, but now looks like a green sheepskin rug. Only bigger. And made from grass. Unfortunately it doesn’t look like it’s going to get a chance to dry out any time soon, so it’ll be knee-deep by the time it does get cut again.