Always on Parade

Onward, from the rolling hills of this England to the wide, green land splattered with poppies, the Mountfield Mower answers its commission, travels on its pilgrimage to that other Eden. Unwilling to camouflage itself, the mower sits proud, motor running, always alert. Offering its help for heroes buried beneath the fields, it can at least trim around the lines and lines of graves. Always on parade.

Wear a mask, please mind the gap, stand clear of the yellow line. All orders followed, commands honoured, sacrifices made. No visa required for the short journey through the tunnel to the glorious task of honouring the dead.