pointy metal

Previous visits to Ayr have involved attending to the wingpiglet as he trundled up and down the garden pushing a wee clicky plastic lawn-mower, though now that he's bigger and less unable to push the hub-linked widely-spaced pedals of the wee trike thing about he's spending more time on that, in between picking up stones from the wee gravel path and distributing them amongst the grass and attempting to find an excuse to go into the shed. He kept asking me to stand on the wee platform at the back, which would probably be more instructive than attempted explanations about mass and levers.