And lo a matter of days after the delivery of a glass recycle box the first collection occurred early today. A lone advance bin man (or garbologist as some may now classify him) moved alone and on foot with a large black bin (or ‘otto’ as they call them in Australia) and proceeded to noisily empty each glass bin contents into the larger black bin which he then wheeled away and out of the close to, I presume, an agreed collection point.
Glass is a very good choice for recycling as its structure does not deteriorate when reprocessed and up to 80% of the original material is suitable for using in new glass which helps reduce the total CO2 footprint for raw glass production. Glass accounts for around 7% of the total household waste composition.
Britain currently recycles around 34% of glass which is poor when compared to Switzerland and Finland achieve rates of around 90%.
Recycling two bottles saves enough energy to boil water for five cups of tea.
Photo by Lady Ema under this creative commons license
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Exit stage left for a late evening raid for some ‘essentials’ at the local supermarket thus managing to avoid Rhydian (he’d be camp if he wasn’t so up his posterior) on X Factor (hurray) and walked half heartedly in the evening air with fireworks going off all around me.
There were still people wandering the streets dressed in Halloween get-up, some of them adults of advancing years so I imagine that either dressing up is their thing or some of them were combining Halloween and fireworks night for the benefit of ‘the kiddies’.
I meandered around the sparsely stocked supermarket aisles to the sound of Razorlight’s ‘Somewhere else’ (‘I really really wish I could be some where else…’).
I had forgotten to report that a few days ago the same supermarket was playing Peter, Bjorn and John’s ‘Young Folks’ which had prompted many fully grown adults to whistle along in unison (almost surreal).
The checkout lady managed to have what seemed like a near fatal coughing fit all over my items whilst I offered a meek ‘Are you alright?”. She waved me away and may still be in the throes of coughing even now.
You Can’t Beat A Good Meander
I meandered my way home through the dark streets, taking the long way around which avoids the alley ways that I’d probably use in the daylight hours. Quite a few families with young children standing outside to watch some of the fireworks.A jogger passed passed me whilst doing that limbering up thing they do to loosen their arms and hands which looks daft when undertaken whilst still running.
Nearer to home a lone woman stood out of the pavement watching a nearby display standing alone in what seemed to be just a camisole top and jeans, arms folded tightly and self consciously whilst a casually holding a lit cigarette.
She did not look happy.
A swift charge around the supermarket aisles today gave me two subliminal music messages via the store tannoy: I could be happy by Altered Images and F.E.A.R by Ian Brown.
There seemed to be a lot of people just standing and staring into space. Perhaps I was one of them. Also there were a lot of very fashion conscious women presenting smart casual. I felt very dowdy and unusually envious.
More music in the aisles
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I am, it has to be said, in the most tetchy of moods today. I started as I meant to go on with a phone call from a friend looking for technical support (if it looks like you can turn a computer on, print, and successfully shut down again then you will be deluged with requests for free help) and didn’t last very long before my short temper was evident.
I’ve dropped things, spilt things, sat staring at the computer monitor feeling empty, taken in a delivery of Internet food shopping with substitutions (meaning I still have to venture into a supermarket) together with a mistake order (my fault) and finally in an act of sheer frustration ended up kicking the fridge when one of the freezer draws kept getting stuck.
I then stormed outside taking handfuls of food scraps, shredded paper and assorted kitchen debris to be dumped in the composting bin and was met with one of the neighbours super cute cats who even managed a very rare meow (this cat meows about once a year if that) and a very friendly ‘cement heading’ of my hand and legs. I feel like the incredible Hulk who, in mid rage, is calmed by the passing little girl just as he is about to do get really angry at the world.
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I went to get some milk at a well known local store that specialises in frozen food (you know the one that the Mums go to). I go there for small items on a weekend as I’d rather saw my toes off with a blunt hacksaw than step inside a major supermarket on a weekend.
The Woman In Front
I stood staring into space waiting for the woman in front of me at the checkout to pack her food stuff away whilst she slowly realised that the amount of food she purchased cannot possibly be carried by just one person.She was flustered and stressed and I could feel it.
The Tomboy Behind
The tomboyish woman behind me was talking quite loudly and with a deep earthy voice as she bemoaned her lot to her friend behind (the general theme about being run off her feet and having no time). She placed her Sunday shopping onto the checkout conveyor belt and behind my singular item. She had 8 cans of beer and a small tub of cream.
I walked back through the nearby green space area. The travellers there have moved on leaving rubbish piled up in the centre spot of a football pitch. Refuse is strewn around the nearby church. This seems to be a regular feature now. Travellers come, they leave, they return. A game of cat and mouse with the local authorities.
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Some people hate Mondays whilst others loathe Wednesdays. When I was growing up I used to dread Sundays with lots of religious stuff on the telly and that knot in my stomach that said school tomorrow. Quite often these days I find Fridays to be the day I could easily skip if that were possible. Today was an enforced inside day due to the weather outside. A computer I’d sorted out was picked up first thing only for me to spend a lot of time on the phone talking someone through another problem. Still I got a bottle of wine out of it. More remote support and then the mood turned ugly as I decided it was time to drown the toys.They had it coming.
A small clutch of sentimental fluffy gifts we had each given each other during our early days together are still with us but had collected more dust than my asthma can cope with so it was time to wash the stuffed toys. You get more hardened to cute and fluffy as you get older but the sight of those beloved stuffed family members emerging wet and bedraggled from the wonder wash was enough to make me feel guilty for putting them through the experience.
I pity inanimate objects.
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