I was woken by the noise of the recycling van coming up the road this morning. Or to be precise, not so much the van as the noise of the bottles and cans being recycled. Oh, they are noisy beggars. So I leapt out of bed and ventured through the hailstorm to have a word with them – we needed a new blue box for the recycling. Ours keeps getting stolen. We keep the thing in the back garden, put it out on the Friday morning when we hear them coming, and fetch it back once they have gone. And over the last year or so we have had two boxes stolen in the few seconds between the box getting emptied and our going out to retrieve the thing.
Unfortunately the chap on the van didn’t have a spare box, and said for us to phone the council. I told him that we’d had two boxes nicked recently. He wasn’t surprised; this isn’t uncommon. He said that he’s watched several people pick up recently emptied boxes, throw them in the back of their cars and drive off with said boxes. He also mentioned that there are a growing number of houses who have their blue recycling boxes chained to walls and fences.
I can’t work this one out. We need the specific blue recycling box because the council people won’t accept recycling in any other container. But if someone wants a blue placcy box, then there are similar ones in B&Q for only a couple of quid. Surely it’s cheaper (if you value your time) to buy a box rather than to waste time and petrol staking out the bin men.
So I phoned the council to organise a new blue box. It took some doing, as they claimed they’d never heard of me, or my address. It was only when I asked if I didn’t exist on their records, could they explain their recent demand for council tax that they actually took me seriously. A new box will arrive in a week or so.
And then to work, which was on the dull side…. Some days my life is eventful. Others, not so…