Carrying the can by Vicki McLeod

The village of S’Arracó, where I live, is well known for its eclectic and international community: we boast amongst our population artists, writers, TV presenters, filmmakers, inventors and all round freethinkers;  so, the good people of S’Arracó have seen a thing or two. Which might explain why our village in particular was chosen to take part in a recycling pilot project.

Every day we have collections for plastics, paper, glass, organics or mixed rubbish: not all at the same time though so we have to store all the other bags somewhere in the house until their dedicated day. This has lead to some spirited ‘bin diving’ from our new dog, Peter Crouch, (he is particularly keen on the plastics and organics selections) and subsequently, when he’s left all the refuse strewn around our kitchen, much cursing as we clean it all up again.

Don’t get me wrong, I like the project. We diligently wash out  yoghurt pots and separate the cellophane window from the envelope.  Perhaps our local council has gone too far though, as in an attempt to force even the older residents of S’Arracó to recycle, the Ayuntamiento removed every single public bin from the streets: leaving everyone with no choice but to either stick it all in the back of the car and chuck it in a bin whenever you drive past one, or take part and just do what you’re told.

So, what do you do about the ‘walking around’ rubbish? Especially the sorts of rubbish that a dog and a four year old little girl can produce on a village stroll (poop and empty crisp bags respectively, by the way).  You take it home with you, there’s no choice, ‘cause there’s no bin.  Try explaining that to a little girl who’s just figured out that ‘Why?’ is the most entertaining question to ask.

‘Mummy, why do I have to carry the crisp bag?’

‘You have to baby, we have to put it in the bin at home, and I’m already carrying Peter Crouch’s special bag, holding your hand and his lead.’

‘Mummy, why can’t you carry my bag?’

‘Well baby, it’s your responsibility, it’s your rubbish and you have to put it in a bin’.

‘Why are you carrying Peter Crouch’s bag for him?’

‘Well, because he is a dog, and doesn’t understand.’

‘Why?’

A conversation which goes around in circles, just as well I like recycling.

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