Marital Bliss and Harmony

Mr Wilkinson and I inhabit for the most part, a pink fluffy cloud of matrimonial bliss and harmony, but occasionally something comes up on which we hold, lets say, a divergence of views. One such is the matter of garden Edges. Not Hedges, edges. 

This is how the garden looks when the grass is mown, the border weeded and the edges cut..

This is how it looks before..

So there is no doubt that cutting a nice defined edge really shows off the border, and the lawn. The point of contention is whether the "edge" is in fact the edge of the lawn (and therefore the responsibility of the Lawn Cutting Operative - the said Mr Wilkinson)  or whether it's the edge of the border and consequently the job of the Border Patrol - me. There is no doubt in my mind that even our rather weedy old  lawn is enhanced by the clear definition of the edge, but Mr Wilkinson is adamant. Doing the edges would entail him descending from the mower and wielding a tool, not within his remit. So in the end, for the sake of marital harmony I do the edges, and it does make all the difference, don't you agree?