Categories: uncategorized
Date: 04 October 2006 17:03:25
Not only did I spend last night being all domesticated (viz. cooking a week’s worth of work lunches and four batches of a really simple tomato sauce, doing laundry and, um, spilling lentils all over the kitchen floor), but I've just ordered one of these and a set of these. When I go home tonight I'll check what the local recycling point will take and I will label the bin accordingly when it arrives, which, according to the website, will be tomorrow. I might as well do my bit to improve my council’s abysmal recycling record (the worst in the country, apparently. I'm very proud). Rosamummy has promised to send me a six-bottle carrier to make it easier to carry glass to the recycling point, because dumping it all in a carrier bag and wandering off down the road with it seems like a recipe for tears and wailing. However, I don’t care what anyone says - I am not, under any circumstances, having a wormery or a compost bin in the kitchen. The conversation with someone at work went something like this:
(Please imagine everything in italics is being said in the sort of irritatingly perky tone of voice that makes you want to poke the speaker in the eye).
"You should get a wormery!"
"Why?"
"For your kitchen waste!"
"I live on the second floor, without a garden or a balcony. Where are you proposing I keep it?"
"Erm, you could keep it in the kitchen!"
"That is the most revolting thing I have ever heard. My mother would shoot me. And I don't have a garden. What would I do with a bin full of worm poo? Sneak round in the middle of the night furtively dumping it on the municipal roses?"
"How about a compost bin? My council sells subsidised ones!"
"And I should keep this in the kitchen as well, should I?"
"Well, yes, you could!"
"Well, no, I couldn’t. That is the second most revolting thing I have ever heard. They smell. They attract flies. They occasionally leak. Apart from anything else, they’re huge; I'd be tripping over it every five minutes."
I'm quite happy to swap my black bin bags for those biodegradable ones made out of cornstarch so they decompose in landfill, but really, there are limits. And my limit is reached somewhat before the point where I have to keep rotting food or a bin full of worms in my kitchen. Eurgh.
And then I think I shall e-mail my council and complain about the lack of doorstep recycling facilities for my block of flats. There’s a hardstanding bit that’s never used, they could put those big recycling bins in it. Everything is all about me, after all, and the entire world should be run for my convenience.