You release the handle with a clack, the lawnmower engine fades. Strolling across the garage, you have an imperceptible skip to your step. The garage beer fridge – your sanctuary from the world’s pressure. You have a few moments of amnesty. It’s enough time to inspect your handiwork, a few moments of lawn meditation. There’s only one thing missing, a crisp, clean, cool Kölsch.
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