18th July 2018
We loaded up the truck with rubbish to take to the local recycling centre. Kelli had contacted the council and obtained permission to take up to a thousand pounds of crap at a time.
These centres are not as well used as they are in the U.K. The term “tip” seemed appropriate as it looked more like a bomb site. We drove up to the office where the truck was weighed. I handed the guy the permit, and asked if we should separate the metals, woods and plastics, ” Nope, just dump everything in the yellow bins”.
This was such an inefficient method that it surprised me.
There wasn’t much evidence of people doing anything, the lack of activity made us think if we had come to the right place.
We drove round to the row of yellow bins, and proceeded to dump our stuff, contributing to the miss-match assortment of Astro turf, shopping trolleys, and Venetian blinds. Our feeble collection of wood off-cuts, old fans and plastic boxes were soon all swallowed up inside the bins. I did not want to lose the wood bits, preferring to burn them in our little outdoor stove, but there is little need to do it in summer, and any smoke would arouse the attention of the local fire department who would think that there was a forest fire, and douse the neighbourhood with a thousand gallons of water.
Watching those little bits of wood disappear down the cracks of the yellow bin made me sad, and yes, I bet I would need some of those pieces for something or other.
Another Lifetime to go 