Just as this morning’s
episode of “Orange is the New Black” came
to an end I heard the dustbin lorry come past. I’d been waiting for that. Some
poor sod had been given the job of emptying our food waste bin, and now that it
was empty I could clean it.
For all that I’m all in
favour of recycling, recycling food waste isn’t such a bright idea. It has to be
kept in its own receptacle and bearing in mind the heat of the last week it
stank. And the food waste bin was crawling with maggots. Certainly thousands of
the things. With the food waste gone with the bin men I went outside with a
kettle of boiling water and had something of a maggot massacre. I then gave the
maggots five minutes to drown and/or scald to death whilst I dressed, then I
poured several thousand maggot corpses down the drain, and left the bin soaking
in a cocktail of hot bleach and disinfectant.
Back in the day we used
to dump food waste down the toilet. I might just go back to doing that.
Recycling food waste in the summer is feral, whereas one flush of the chodbin
and the job is done.
As I drove to work I
couldn’t help but laugh at the radio. The pundits on the radio were
interviewing a leading light from the Confederation of British Industries.
Bearing in mind that one of the major reasons for voting for Brexit was so that
we could send them all back on the next banana boat, the CBI are rather concerned
that no one should be sent back on any boats (banana or otherwise).
If all the immigrant
workers go back, who will do the work that they leave?
And following on from
this bombshell it turns out that one of the casualties of Brexit will be professional football.
The claim was made that one quarter of the players in the UK’s premier league
would not qualify for work permits in a post-Brexit Britain. The point was
argued back and forth; at the end of the squabble the only thing on which all
sides agreed was that no one had thought the matter out.
I
made good time to work, being a school holiday, the roads were rather quiet. I
got to work and did my bit. The day started bright but got darker as the
morning wore on. By the afternoon there was torrential rain.
Once
back to Ashford I found myself parking by the Chinese take-away where I got
myself some dinner. With "er indoors TM" off on a jolly
this weekend I had to forage for food. I was rather damp once I’d ran from car
to take-away, and was very wet once I’d run home.
The
dogs didn’t get an evening walk tonight; it was too wet. Treacle didn’t seem
fussed, but Fudge was difficult about the matter. He kept barking at me as
though to tell me it was walk time, but when I opened the back door so he could
go tiddle in the garden he would look at the rain and refuse to go out. And
then go back to the front door and bark.
With (most of) dinner scoffed I ironed shirts
whilst watching more “Orange is the New
Black”. I’m now into the second season of the show…
Today was rather dull.
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