DESPITE the fact that it now needs a trim, possibly one of its last of the year, I am absolutely petrified to cut our back lawn.

You may scoff, but we can’t afford the risk, because the last time I dared to grab the mower and sort out the grass, it ended up costing us almost £300.

This was a sum of money we could not easily part with and the Christmas savings went down the plug in one go.

You may be wondering what on earth happened, so here’s the dreadful tale.

One sunny day, I thought I would get a job done and mow the lawn. Humming away to myself, I merrily set about the task. It was nowhere near a jungle – we never let it get to that stage – and, on paper, it was a straightforward up-and-down procedure which should have passed without incident.

As I pressed forward for the final push of the job, near the shed at the very back of the garden, I heard a small stone catch and whirl, and immediately then stopped the mower. I was being cautious because the Other Half once ran over a whack of a stone and dented the blade.

I packed up, cleaned the machine, put the clippings into the composter and headed back towards the house – where I was suddenly aware of a strange crackling noise, exactly like a certain brand of cereal is supposed to sound.

How I hadn’t spotted it before then I don’t know, but I looked to the left to find, to my absolute horror, that the entirety of one half of our sliding doors – which run from floor to ceiling at the back of the house - was completely in pieces.

I felt a million things at once, chiefly bewildered, embarrassed, guilty and depressed, familiar emotions from occasions when I have inexplicably broken things in our kitchen, like the time I dropped three cups from one of my favourite tea sets on the floor whilst dusting them.

I just couldn’t fathom how on earth this cataclysm had come about and decided to commence a swift investigation. Peering at the glass, I finally discovered a little tiny hole in one corner where a dirty rotten stone must have absolutely ricocheted right across the garden when struck by the mower.

And because it was made of safety glass, the entire window immediately crumbled.

Our one piece of luck was that the inner bit of glazing was intact, so neither the security nor the temperature of the house would be compromised while we were waiting to have it repaired.

Online research would indicate that this happens a lot, but, honestly, that’s of little comfort.