BROWN BIN REFUSAL

I suppose it’s lucky I was home, really, although, as I’ve droned on at length about, the circumstances that led to me being at home have, of course, nothing remotely “lucky” about them at all.

Still, as I was beavering away at my temporary makeshift work station, I heard the unfamiliar bleep of a largish wagon attempting to reverse down the treacherous slope that leads down from the road to our huddle of tiny houses.

What happened next largely depends upon whether you want to accuse me of suffering from “nosey neighbour” syndrome, or whether you believe that it’s only natural to wonder what the hell’s going on. Whichever side of that fence you may choose to fall towards, the truth is that I went to see what all the noise was about, but I did, in all honesty, already have my suspicions.

After all, a mere two days earlier, on bin collection day, a packet had been stuffed through the door telling of the latest developments in our council’s “scattergun” policy on waste disposal and recycling. Another year, another refuse disposal contract, it seemed and, of course, yet another bin to politely decline.

Every couple of years or so, we get a new directive about how we are going to clutter up our kitchen with yet more sorted waste that we are no longer allowed to deal with in the way we once did. Once more our limited amount of storage space and clear work surfaces are going to be cluttered with yet more of the clobber that has to be placed in receptacle “A” for collection on day “B” (if they turn up) and which is never, ever to be placed in receptacle “C” or “D” which can only be allowed to contain refuse “E” and “F” and we are to assume that receptacles “G” and “H” are no longer to be used for that purpose.

Or something…

Our council, like so many I suppose has, out of necessity to have a “one size fits all” policy when it comes to such matters, even if your dwelling doesn’t fit the particular size they think that it ought to. Every couple of years we find ourselves having to deal with a new set of operatives who have to learn that the huge wagons that they turn up in won’t fit down the track they need to drive down and every time this takes about three months to sort out, usually after they’ve not collected anything for about two months.

This week’s letter gave us the opportunity to refuse the latest huge brown wheelie-bin and have two other options instead, either a smaller brown wheelie-bin or a hessian sack by circling our choice on the form and returning it to them. The morning after we got the letter we posted it back, going for the “hessian sack” option as it is the path of least resistance and still means that there’s a path that my neighbours can negotiate in order to leave their own houses via the pathway past my house towards freedom and the big wide world beyond.

However, the very next day, before the postal service had even had a fighting chance of getting my letter to the relevant desk and long before, I imagine, the “in-tray” itself had a chance to be looked at, the wagon was reversing and indeed a dozen or more huge brown plastic receptacles were being deposited in the places where most of my neighbours park their cars.

As I said, it’s lucky I was home so that I was able to politely decline and now I am the only house on the row without the beastly bins although, ironically, they are all expected to be deposited at the back of my house come collection day.

Christ alone knows what it’s going to do to the parking around here, and who knows when the mysterious “hessian sack” will appear, although I’m currently guessing at “never…”

(First published in “The Lesser Blogfordshire Alternative” July 14th 2012)

NB Note to the world in general, (if any of you are there). Whilst this might in some way resemble one of those “anti-recycling” rants which you may have seen or heard, that is simply not the case. I am, in fact, very much in favour of such things but I’ve always felt that the “best” way to get the public on your side is to make it all as simple as possible and whilst officials do seem to try their best to keep costs down, that’s usually because they pass the burden of the sorting onto the customer and seem to add increasingly complex bin collection systems into the mix which end up confusing everyone and building up the resentment. My own kitchen now resembles a rubbish heap and not only because of the usual reasons, but because of the various piles of rubbish waiting for the appropriate day and the right receptacle needing to be readied for collection. If you add fines into an already tense situation, no wonder you get the kinds of affronted headlines that the tabloids are so fond of screaming out. It’s an old cliché, but offering the carrot instead of using the stick, I believe, works far better every time.