I thought I was hearing things this morning but sure enough, two horses were clopping up the road. A beautiful chestnut shire was pulling one cart and a white shire pulled another.
It took me back many, many, years to my childhood and the days of the Rag and Bone Man.
We would give him a bag of old clothes and in return get a goldfish in a plastic bag.
The ones we had lived for years, unlike any we won at the fair which ony lasted a year at the most.
When we first came here, I heard a bugle blasting out the Tally Ho hunting anthem, which announced that the Mobile Scrap Merchant was doing his rounds. I could see that people had put their old washers, fridges, microwaves etc out and he came along in his van to collect them. Council waste disposal trucks don’t accept these, and for some people, it is practically impossible to take such items down to the local tip. There used to be a lot of money in scrap, be it cars or white goods, and recently we saw a breakers yard with the sign ‘Metal Recycling Centre’.
The Birmingham Bin Strike doesn’t affect us here, so on my walk this morning the Recycling Blue Soldiers were standing to attention on the roadside. Food waste is collected weekly in much smaller bins, and some creature had obviously smelt some delight as the bin had been overturned, opened (despite a locking device to hold the lid in place) and the inner bin liner torn to shreds. Thankfully Maggie took no notice.
From what I can recall of our houseliving three years ago, we didn’t have food waste collections then and had a compost heap for our green waste as we didn’t think an extra charge to our council tax was warranted for the amount we had to dispose of.
Recycle bins were emptied fortnightly and household waste the weeks in between. Most of our waste was from supermarket packaging anyway, and we had an incinerator bin in the back yard which we used to burn our confi-waste.