On the one hand, there was the young man who works in Jessops camera shop. My four year old IXUS 400 packed up recently, and while it doesn't have the bin-with-a-line through it mark on it, its replacement does. So I thought I would take it back to the place where I got it and see if they knew what to do with it.
The young man who works in Jessops camera shop said he was sorry, but this branch of Jessops wasn't able to take cameras for recycling. But, he said, he was going to London soon and he knew a shop there that would take them, so he'd take it there for me if I wanted.
I wanted. I thanked him very much indeed, and left the shop feeling warm inside. A little goodwill goes a long way, and his took me very nearly all the way home.
But then on the other hand there are my braying, gormless, charmless student neighbours. Just after they left for Christmas, I found our wheelie bin stuffed with what I presumed was their surplus rubbish, as theirs was overflowing. I took it all out and chucked it into their front garden (for the very good reason that the bin wouldn't be emptied for nearly a fortnight, and where the fuck were we supposed to put *our* rubbish in the meantime?) but did feel slightly guilty in case it wasn't them.
When I got home today, our wheelie bin had two black binliners jammed into it, neither of which was ours. I hauled one of them into the house and we poked gingerly through the detritus, at least 50% of which should have been in a green or blue box rather than the bin anyway, until I found half a bank statement, which proved conclusively that it was indeed Caroline (or one of her charming housemates) who had decided again that our bin was at their disposal.
We wrote them a note, asking them to cease and desist, pointing out that a) they can order a bigger bin if they want one and b) they could always try recycling a bit more, and dumped their bags on their doorstep.
I hate them. I know it's a waste of hatred, but I can't help it. They should have enough A-levels between them to work out what goes in which bin and when it's going to be collected. Guidance is freely available in Simple English and any other language you care to mention.
Meanwhile, I now have Caroline's home address (her house has a name, not a number, naturally), sort code and bank account number. As she dumped it in my bin on my property, I probably didn't break any laws obtaining it. It's very tempting to set up a chunky standing order to Friends of the Earth, a la Jeremy Clarkson. It is so tempting that I'm blogging it to stop me doing it. But if anyone's feeling similarly malevolent, be my guest.
joella
2 comments:
Oh that is a damn good idea Joella and surely no court in the land would convict... however just to be on the safe side maybe just blog about it first and we can all share in getting angry on your behalf then taking some deep breaths...
The whole rubbish collection thing is a hot issue in our street as well. I've got a bit of a name for myself as the bloke who sends reminder notes to everyone about when to take their wheelybins back, wheels them up myself when they don't take any notice, rings the council about flytipped machinery from the hairdressers (you wouldn't believe!), storms into the local Subway to confront the staff with stray binbags full of their telltale packaging, etc. I also spent last Saturday morning sweeping up from the end of the street the takeaway detritus of another Friday night. You know what though? I don't care if they think I am eccentric- the one thing that really sometimes makes me want to move from this mostly convivial inner-city cul-de-sac is this constant thoughtlessnes from a proportion of our neighbours.
Oh who would have known I had so much to say on that subject? It's like you with the 2CVs the other week... oh and now I have just remembered Tuesday night is Levenshulme bin night, good job you reminded me!
Oh Puleeeeese do it - even if its for a tiny sum. Understand your frustration though. It's the kind of thing that gnaws and nags at me, until I have to say something.
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