The sheer scale of the disaster struck Roland Dewhurst as he was congratulating himself on the quality of his work. He had switched off the lawnmower, lifted himself from the soft, leather seat and was staring in admiration at the lushness of the lawn. He pulled the packet of cigarettes from his pocket, checked that no one was watching and lit up. He inhaled the smoke and relaxed as the nicotine kicked in. He took a few more drags, stubbed the end of the cigarette on the heel of his shoe and placed it back in the packet.  He turned, detached the cuttings box and walked over to the compost heap. He was watching the cuttings tumble down before him when he spotted the…