Escaping Death......

So it's finally happened.

My maverick gardening ways have finally helped me to get closer to meeting the big one. Not that I'm into 'extreme gardening' or anything - I couldn't see me with rope and harness weeding a sheer cliff face, or picking exotic blooms from a swamp infested by crocodiles.

We're building a community garden which is a lovely way to pass time with a little hard labour (rewarding), sharing knowledge and chat (engaging), and breaking bread or sharing a bottle or two when the work is finished (my kind of socialising). The fruits of our labours will come later but are only a small part of the bigger picture, as the goal is really to get people meeting up, doing constructive things together and taking an interest in the wider community and all the benefits that brings.

Building materials for raised beds or similar which are ideal for community gardens are expensive and not too easy to come by unless you have a little imagination, and some kind of ute or van where something dumped or otherwise discarded at the side of the road can be 'collected' before the next man gets there. *See earlier post about the roadside recycling revolution*

At the end of a long and dusty track down near a local river I found a couple of discarded tyres - Ideal for planting potatoes or any number of rambling plants such as pumkins.

Remote dusty tracks that are seldom used, near water, in a sunny spot (see where I'm going with this?) often are a mecca for snakes. We have a few types here and all are extremely venomous.

As I was with my beloved, I was advised by that this was an ideal habitat for snakes - something I already knew and to be honest didn't need reminding about - but in my manly and of course better knowing way I humoured her by vowing to be careful and kick the tyres before picking them up. The first tyres were OK. Four empty and useful tyres found their way from refuse to recycle and straight into the back of the ute. The next one was a little further away from the track and nestling amongst some long grass, broken bottles and stones. It was a particularly large and attractive tyre and in my minds eye I could see it taking pride of place in our garden with a huge crop of delicious veggies sprouting forth......

As I stepped off the path and onto the gravel I aimed a kick at the tyre (the lovely big one) and my boot cruched on some broken glass. This noise disturbed the afternoons sunbathing of a huge brown snake - certainly the biggest I have ever seen in my life.

As it's beady eyes met mine, the world turned in slow motion.

It coiled and flexed as if to spring.

I flexed my delicious looking thigh and calf muscles, (to a snake obviously!) in a primaeval instinctive reaction to prepare me for fight or flight

We both moved as one, though luckily in opposite directions as I stumbled backwards and away from this deadly native, and it made for cover into the longer grass. OK - so not that dramatic, but a few inches more and it certainly could have been. Needless to say the tyre collecting stopped there and then.

I learned at least two things from this.

1) Consider the terrain and always look out for deadly snakes as they are very common here.
2) Listen to 'she who will be obeyed' as she appears to have a sixth sense for this kind of thing. This isn't the first time I've had a similar experience after being warned, but this was certainly the closest and definitely the biggest snake I have seen so close. My leg muscles weren't the only muscles that flexed at that time I can tell you, and my underpants nearly met an untimely and messy demise.......

They say that you can't escape destiny though, and the next day whilst digging in my garden I was stung in the face by an angry bee. Not sure why it was angry. Perhaps it was the angle I was using my spade or the colour of my T-shirt that offended its fashion sensibilities - who knows the logic of a bees brain?

I think out of the two it was the preferred option, and I certainly felt that in the garden I have dodged a bullet, for now at least.

Which was more than can be said for that bee.......

Negative Man? Maybe I'm mellowing?

I'm thinking after reading all my previous posts that I must be a new breed of super hero - my only super power - to be extremely negative and miserable.

Maybe I should post a warning for unsuspecting readers: Don't read any further unless you delight in reading miserable drivel.

I think I should perhaps reveal the address of my other blog where all the 'good' posts go but that could possibly spoil my image as a grumpy old man.

I've really enjoyed writing some of this stuff as it seems to get ideas that I feel I may be obsessing over into print, and out of my head and is a good record and reflection of my mood at a particular time.

I can read back from this point in the future and a little unlike a diary pick up on my feelings and as there is plenty of space here to ramble and rant on, I don't have to suffer wondering what I was referring to back then, that was obviously so important.

One of my favourite lines from a song is from "Remote" by Hue and Cry. Just think how many song lyrics there are and how some may be really special to you for any number of reasons. From time to time you hear a lyric from the myriad songs available and in one particular moment of time and space dependant on your mood or some life event you will know exactly what the person that wrote it meant and you will forever identify with that song as something special.

'I am remote from you now. Remote as old diary phrases.'

Other songs may be a struggle for us to understand what on earth (or otherwise!) is being referred to - some lyrics just totally fall out of your frame of reference and may therefore appear to be incomprehensible - or may just be something nonsensical that we aren't supposed to understand. If you 'get' a writers lyrics, particularly if you are in the right frame of mind, you may really feel a bond with the writer and support them in buying their music or going to one of their gigs and get a massive kick out of either or both.

A band from the late 90s which had some extremely odd lyrics in its songs was Mansun - a much underrated outfit in my opinion though I didn't understand a lot of their words but just liked the tunes in a lot of their recordings. On one of their albums there is the fabled 'hidden track' where the band reveal 'The lyrics aren't supposed to mean that much. They're just a vehicle for a lovely voice. They aren't supposed to mean that much.'

Which brings me rather neatly to an unanswered question. Given that I've discussed how one may feel at a particular time and how a song may relate to your life in an incredible way and then becomes emotionally engaging in some way in a hypothetical example where you may have broken up with your significant other and hear some of that miserable 'Adele' type music (sorry - try as much as I can, I just can't like it....) and then develop this emotional attachment and possibly always trigger this feeling whenever you hear this song, for the rest of your life. So here's the question - answers on a postcard please:

Over a significant period of my life I have listened to classical music - even more so over the last 18 months and now have virtually stopped listening to most other types of radio or other music in favour of classical in its many and varied forms. I've also been going to a series of live classical concerts performed by our local excellent symphony orchestra during this time.
How is it, that certain phrases of music can instill such passionate feelings in one. For example, a quiet violin solo in the middle of something loud can if played correctly give you a feeling of such joy that you feel your emotions brimming over and tears forming. Nimrod from Elgar's Enigma Variations has such a structure and I find it difficult to listen to, without feeling overwhelmed by emotion. This feeling seems to be amplified during a 'live' performance too which can lead to embarrassing struggles to keep a stiff upper lip what? Even in performances of as yet unheard tunes - so it isn't something that we have an emotional attachment with like an old song, and  there are no lyrics to help with the tune here, a particular passage can bring such feelings of joy or sadness - but why is this so? Perhaps it is something to do with the frequency of the sound and the way that our bodies may resonate at a particular frequency.

It's a mystery to me. I've read a lot of theories in the subject but I don't think anything has ever been 'proven' to date. If this idea of frequency resonance is correct - how can two people sitting next to each other be differently affected. How is it that music in general has the power to move one so much in a way that other things can not. How often have you been moved by a scene in a movie, and find later that it was perhaps the music that actually caused (or at least greatly enhanced) your reaction? I know that it has happened to me countless times.

I don't have the answer but I'd be interested to know what your opinion is. Feel free to post below - the only prize will be my gratitude for taking the time to read this and respond. That's it for this post. I hope you weren't disappointed that it's not one of my usual rants, but you can always look further down for those.......

TTFN

Graffiti in all its glorious forms.

OK - so I've now got way too much time on my hands without the half hourly subscription to facebook - what do I do to fill my spare time?

One of my many hates is graffiti - and more specifically tagging.

In fact - lets just stop and think about this for a moment.

I can actually see some kind of twisted pleasure in vandalism. I mean - who hasn't smashed a bottle and got a cheap thrill from the glass breaking (just don't think about the consequences of some poor animal discovering the results of your moments guilty pleasure with its unclad feet you unfeeling bastard.....) but scrawling undecipherable scribbles on 'something' be it a public or private place? - well that really escapes me.

I mean - firstly the approach seems a bit wrong. The word graffiti kind of instills a bit of cool to the activity.

Let us re appropriate this phrase to what it really is. Graffiti now becomes: Scribbling.

I urge you to (at least mentally) replace every instance of the word graffiti that you see with the word scribble, or scribbling.

This immediately takes away 'the cool'.

So what does that leave us with?

The poor suckers that 'cooly' paint their 'tag' on any fence, building or other (substitute your own item here)  are really searching for some kind of approval from mummy. Where else have you seen that indecipherable scribble? Yes - you remember - Kindy - playschool. Basically under five year olds do it.

What's the problem cool guy?

Mummy not give you enough attention, crayons, or paper when you were a toddler and now you feel you have to show someone else to get some kind of reaction?

It isn't art you know.

Art is something that provokes reaction, most commonly in an emotional response - good or bad. What people see when you scribble on a lamp post is not really the same thing so don't kid yourself.

So - I volunteered for the local council team of graffiti clearing up guys - we don't have a name. No one knows who we are - so I guess we must be supermen (unless your name is Lois). The guy that co-ordinates the volunteers calls us 'Dads Army' as  most of the volunteers are retired or elderly blokes with spare time on their hands looking to see what they can do to piss off the younger generation.  Haha! Revenge is ours!

The council have virtually unlimited funds - that is to say, that if they need more money they only need put up your mum and dads rates. If you live in rented housing and don't pay rates don't think you'll get away with it there either Buster. You mum or dad will have to meet the rising cost of rentals because someone has to recoup their costs somewhere along the line. In short - we've got more paint than you. We've got more time than you. We work in the daylight and not by torchlight.  Although you think it's really cool to scribble on that bus stop, lamp post or road sign, ultimately we all pay for it to be cleaned - so why do it? You aren't Banksy and never will be.

Think about that for the rest of your life when you're working at McDonald's and progressing your career on the way up to a job in a bank or wherever and become what you're currently rallying against, and probably depise most - a respectable human being; most likely with a mortgage!

Then you will also learn to hate the scribblers and wonder if their mummies didn't pay them enough attention when they were five too.

Either way - I have news for you - You will be assimilated! It happens to everyone sooner or later.

TTFN

Facebook Urgh.....

Hi fans.

It's been a while since I last posted and indeed I seem to have not only broken but smashed into smithereens my new year resolution 2012 to post at least one item every month.

In truth I guess that the idea behind opening an account and posting this stuff on line was for its cathartic and mentally beneficial effects on me and not so much for your enjoyment. Anyone that knows me (and this posting is largely anonymous) may even worry about some of the things written here - it's not like I'm going to go out on a killing spree or anything dramatic like that, but I reveal something of a darker and more gripey area of my personality that I normally hide.

Hence the idea to be able to post things here and get them off my chest and stop them clouding my brain ( Hey - clouds in my brain....there's a catchy title if ever I heard one......)

So here's the latest instalment.

I've been thinking about a lot of things lately, and when I look back on my previous posts on here, they certainly do seem to act as a barometer for my thought processes.

My latest activity which I am really proud of is deactivating my Facebook account.

Facebook is so useful. You don't have to send loads of piccies as attachments to those significant others in your life and clog up their mail boxes. You can just dump them into facebook and they can be viewed at your friend and families leisure - a brilliant invention. You can keep up to date on the minutiae of your mates, and they can keep up to date with you. Except I don't think that's what is really happening. Mostly people want to put their own status on facebook and invite comments - they don't necessarily want to read about you. In fact - I'm pretty irritating and I reckon that most of my 'so called' friends on facebook have hidden my posts so they don't have to read them. But woe betide you if you aren't sympathetic to their personal troubles, or if you make some kind of negative or otherwise contentious comment on their status........

There are many downsides.

But possibly the worst think about facebook is that it's addictive - I found myself checking its status maybe every half hour, or even more - whenever I got a free moment at work - possibly adding up to 20 or more times per day along with the time I would spend before and after work checking statuses - adding (probably unwanted) comments to others status' and doing all the other stuff one does on facebook. This could include access on the network at work or via my mobile phone (NOT an iPhone - see earlier posts......) but really - for what? In the hope that one of my FB buddies would put something in their status that would enrich my life or prompt some kind of emotional or otherwise response? Are we all so numb that we have to view others lives and share everything that others are going through good and bad? Heaven forbid that we should meet 'down the pub' or phone one another and talk about anything without giving a 'heads up' on facebook first to gauge public responses.

In the end I realised that along with media sensationalism (accentuate all the BAD things that are happening in the world), reality TV in all its spectacular forms, and all the other stuff we have to deal with on a day to day basis, facebook was causing me a great deal of pain and suffering and now I have been free of its bonds for over a week and apart from one or two times where I have had a spare moment and thought about checking it I haven't even missed it.

Facebook actually makes it really difficult to delete your account and even when you go to deactivate your account they put up pictures of your on line friends and tell you that XX is really going to miss you - are you sure you want to deactivate your account? I shit you not! Try it with your own account - you don't have to go through with it but you'll see what I'm talking about.

So what have I done constructively with my time off facebook? Well - a fair bit actually. I also decided to free myself of the bonds of TV at the same time as going 'off line' and only actually watch what I schedule myself - TV is brilliant - even though there's nothing on I can manage to pass away a lazy evening just flicking between channels (much to the chagrin of my poor and long suffering darling wife) but think about ONLY watching those programmes you really enjoy and then either turning off the TV or watching a movie or something educational or even something from your selection of long recorded but never viewed TV programmes that you just couldn't miss.........
I've listened to a LOT of classical music because that's something that doesn't demand your attention - in other words it's something that can be heard whilst you are engaged in other activities.

I even visited my local library and checked out and read a couple of books in the evenings beside the fire (albeit with a nice glass of red - we are in winter - Southern Hemisphere you know dahling.....) so there is life after facebook. Don't be afraid!

I read a lot of other blogs before I had the courage to deactivate my facebook account, detailing others thoughts on the whys and wherefores. Now I'm starting to wonder if it's something I should have done a lot earlier, but as with all addictions, there's always a good reason why you shouldn't give something up.

NB  -  Before I sign off I should add that I've been really itching to reactivate my FB account and checkout who RIP'd the Bee Gees. Not that I think that's a terribly bad thing (the RIPing) as it shows respect (though also an addiction to mourning sickness - which you should really google if you don't know what I'm talking about) but in the last week some really significant people died - Alan Oakley (the designer of 'The Chopper' - a part of many 70s childhoods) and Eugene Polley (little known inventor of the first wireless TV remote control) and I'll bet they don't even get a mention in the populist listings.

TTFN

Reality TV - Opium for the masses, or just another facebook page?

You may have heard references in the past from conspiracy theorists about this thing or that thing that have been served up for public consumption by 'the establishment' to keep the masses under control by drip feeding them brain numbing drugs (in the added fluoride don't you know), sub conscious messages or whatever the latest pseudoconspiracy.com site says is the flavour of the month for mind control.
For your consideration, tonights offering from (most likely) your local commercial TV channel which may be centered around any number of the following:

1. Cooking
2. Dancing
3. Singing or other 'entertainment'
4. Some kind of strange matchmaking or dating arrangement
5. Renovating a condemned building or series of rooms
6. Losing weight
7. Locking several people into a remote location or somehow isolated house
8. So called 'celebrities' that you may never have heard of
9. Any combination of the above

For example - you may be about to experience the ultimate in televisual entertainment as a 'celebrity' you have never heard of, in their aim to lose weight, waltzes across your screen on ice (the drug most likely, but possibly frozen water) whilst singing and tossing a pancake, looking for a wife and all presented for your delectation from a remote jungle location.

What has happened to imagination?

I heard a similar phenomenon years ago at the time when commercial radio started to become franchised. A song you hadn't heard before would be played several times during a short period via a number of commercial radio stations, because it appeared on a list that decreed it would sell product X. It was the beginning of marketing overtaking taste.

Now we see this formulaic TV production because it appeals to the masses and of course - the advertisers.

I get to meet a lot of people during my working day, and have exposure to social media in my free time. I get to overhear a lot of conversations within the workplace and via facebook about how someone 'had been so good - I was brought to tears' or how 'so and so was really good, did you see the programme last night - you must see the next episode' (or EP as they are now called as we are all so busy we can't find the time to say the full word any more).

On the odd occasion when I have been sucked in to a colleagues enthusiasm, and actually consented to watch a segment of one of these programmes, I have been totally underwhelmed by the thing or person they referred to, which has often been repeated ad nauseum in the trailers aired in every ad break, for next weeks thrilling installment.

I don't know why this stuff doesn't appeal to me. I feel joy. I cry. I laugh.

I refuse to be manipulated by a programme editted for maximum reaction with a musical soundtrack designed to provoke some kind of emotional response in a world where we are all so numb we have to be spoon fed stuff like this to tell us how to feel.

If reality TV of this kind isn't presented that way, then it's often a modern equivalent of a freakshow.

In a world where we have to respectfully say RIP to every poor bugger that has died whether we've heard of  them or not, and public outpourings of grief have become the current style since the death and subsequent funeral of Princess Diana, I think people should show a bit more respect to themselves and not feel that they have to follow the crowd when it comes to their emotional responses.

Read a book or listen to some mind expanding music, and decide for yourself when to laugh, cry or whatever rather than being manipulated into doing it by some poor 'so called' entertainment. Go to the pub. Get involved in your own life, instead of being told how to think and react by others.

I guess this is yet again an example of my cynical nature. Ben Elton has written a couple of good books based on similar ideas showing how people let themselves get manipulated into the cult of so called celebrity. Often people who are famous for having no apparent talent other than self publicity and so forth.

I don't know if there is a link here or not, but our parents used to deal with problems by tackling them in whichever way they thought would be most effective. Small problems were not blown up out of all proportion because they didn't know the appropriate emotional responses to a situation - they had never been led by media - just peer group and family. A drama would not be turned into a crisis.

While I'm on the subject, how long until the next social media development, where by using our mobile phone with integrated camera we can all be online, all of the time, sharing our highs and lows with others who only really want to show you their highs and lows.

I'll sign off now by quoting one of my facebook friends status updates:  "May your life one day be as awesome as you pretend it is on Facebook....."

2012 - A New Beginning or More of The Same?

Well here we go. Happy New Year to you dear reader.

My inner editor told me that I had to do a few words for this months contribution rather than just pinch and rehash something I had already written, so for your approval and delight (really?) my first efforts for 2012.

          ******************************************************************

The dust of Christmas and New Year celebrations has well and truly settled and the feeling of impending doom before the first Monday back at work that I have often felt on a Sunday afternoon certainly doesn't feel any different from that of any other year.

How many New Years resolutions lay smashed in pieces on the ground on the eighth day of the new year? How many smokers have returned to the solace of their tobacco habit, how many dieters have thought that "I'll start the new diet tomorrow" and of course as we all know from anonymous quotations 101 that tomorrow never actually comes. How many filled with good intent have started an exercise regime only to find that it's actually not that easy to change your life in one day?

In 2012 I turn forty seven years old. Or as I like to look at it as master of the cliche, forty seven years young.

Whilst the body doesn't necessarily do everything it used to, and hangovers take longer to recover from, my mind doesn't really take these things into consideration and thinks that I can still keep up with twenty somethings in the physical department. So as I've got older, I still feel the same inside, but when I look in the mirror and see the odd extra white hair and new wrinkle, or the effect of the continual pull of gravity (everything starting to sag...), the outside isn't as great as it once was. A good example of this was when I spent a couple of vintages working amongst young lads in a winery. My work ethic and physical efforts were actually greater than most of those around me (with  a few exceptions) yet I don't know of anyone else that came away with a free hernia operation special souvenir and surgery scar to remember "Vintage 2008" by.

I recently spent some time at a party with similarly aged friends who had 'twenty something' offspring, who had in turn invited several other 'twenty something' friends. As a 'forty something' I don't even register on their collective radar. Strange to feel like the invisible man in a crowd of people!

I'm sure that this is all normal.  Now I see elderly people and instead of thinking something clever and dismissive, as only the young can, I think; "That person is going through this too for only their first and last time - they haven't always been old, and it's as new to them as it is to you or me."

With some, it's the body lets you down, with others it's the mind.

It's hard to imagine what someone who loses their memory may be thinking. They may be very happy in their own world whilst it's only others around them that feel the pain and upset of being forgotten or otherwise let down. This of course may not be the case. Alzheimer's is a very sad form of dementia which seems to be on the increase. Whilst we live in a world where we can increasingly live to a ripe old age with medicines and procedures that keep us alive and our bodies reasonably healthy, but we are still waiting for a significant remedy for dementia. Encouraging work has been carried out with stem cell research, but even this has its opponents due to its controversial nature.

I recently carried out some work for a man who was in his nineties, who had been a respected scientist in his field, with at least one technical publication to his name. Sadly, he hadn't got a clue what was going on when I visited him, and once the job was complete I had to contact his daughter to let her know what had been done. Whilst speaking to her she confided that he had been assessed eligible for full time care due to his dementia, but he wouldn't surrender his independent lifestyle and go into care. He lived in a remote location, and apparently often calls tradespeople in for minor or imagined jobs, which was costing them a small fortune. Not to mention the worry that he could end up harming himself accidentally, or become victim to some criminal element living alone and so far away from family or neighbours.

It certainly left me questioning things I had never considered before, and although I felt sorry for the old man and his family, I'm sure they are not alone in this or similar circumstances.

So, I guess the moral to the story if there is one, is to enjoy what you've got while you can. Take good care of yourself, but not to the extent that you deny yourself having a good time, and try and live within your means, both physically and financially. Cliche number 298a fits the bill - "Everything in Moderation"

Dr Deepak Chopra prescribes 10 simple rules for ageing with health and happiness in his book: Ageless Body, Timeless Mind - A Quantum alternative to growing old. 
It's a good read, and I urge you to find a copy and check it out.

I actually believe that the rules are simpler, and that we need a few basics in place and the rest should follow:

1. Something to eat and drink.
2. Sufficient money.
3. Friends to share with. Love. Friendship. Be nice to each other.
4. Something to occupy your time.
5. Something to look forward to.

That's my forty-two I suppose - my answer to the great question of life, the universe and everything.

When I started this topic an hour ago I didn't know it was going to lead here, but that's the nature of blogging

Recycelage and the recycle age

I've discovered a new phenomenon this year - I've always been one for taking up the gauntlet of recycling household waste, checking every little thing over for the recycle logo before consigning it to the appropriate bin, or repairing or adapting old household items that still have life left in them. When we moved to South Australia I was very happy to find that most bottles, drink cans and containers have a compulsory 'deposit' which can be redeemed at certain places in the state - a wonderful by product of this is that it helps to reduce littering as those less fortunate can pick up from public bins and roadsides and make themselves a few dollars which reduces litter and landfill. Even my home-brew bottles have been around for a few years, after I was given them by a friend who runs an RSL some time ago - I've lost count of the number of times I've rewashed and refilled them - my only concession to the modern age is that they are all screw top bottles so when I press on the crown caps 'hey presto' I have bottle tops that don't need a bottle opener. Of course the crown caps are metal and can be recycled too.......

This year I have noticed an unusual phenomenon and embraced it to the full. Being a roadside recycler of long standing (when we lived in the UK I couldn't pass a skip without looking to see what was inside that might be useful to me) I still have trouble meeting the speed limit in an area where there is a hard rubbish collection scheduled, and have been tooted up by many an angry motorist as I drive slowly past someone else’s rubbish pile looking for that little piece of Eldorado. Amongst some of my best wins have included a 'butlers sink' which the local wildlife and our bees love to bathe in, and drink from, and some heavy metal posts ideal for creating retaining walls, other items too numerous to mention have graced our house or garden over the years.

This year I booked our own council hard rubbish collection as I was having a good clear out of items that had been cluttering the garage for several years that we no longer had any use for - for example, when we moved in to this house there was a fake fireplace which we replaced with a real fire - ideal for keeping us warm on cold winter nights and more functional than for just looking at.

Our instructions were clear.

Put the rubbish you want collected out in the morning from 5.00am on the day that it has been scheduled to be collected (5.00am???) and not before otherwise you may be ticketed for tipping offences(!). When I booked the pick-up, I was very specific with the items we would need collecting, as I had recently demolished and built a new home for our chickens. Items would include, perma-pine posts, planks, corrugated iron roofing, fencing and chicken wire, and other more 'household' goods. When the paperwork arrived stating what items were permissible it was a fairly exhaustive list stating that pretty much everything I needed to get rid of couldn't be collected. Luckily, either the guys that carried out the collection either hadn't been informed what was actually on the list, or had enough sense to turn a blind eye, and took everything that was left for collection.

Now, you notice I say - everything that was left for collection. I deliberately flaunted (I live on the EDGE man!) the rules and put the hard rubbish items out a few days early to see what would be taken by others similarly minded to myself, i.e. those dumpster divers, Australian Pickers, or whatever you want to call us.

I was amazed.

A large pile of items had been whittled away to a small pile, and items that had been taken included an old and extremely heavy punch bag (that I saw being dragged into a very small car by a very small lady), some really worn out matchstick blinds, a number of small rolls of carpet, and the said fake fireplace.

I had put this item out first, whilst clearing the garage, and had clearly left it out for someone to take and put to good use. I had been out tidying the garage for over an hour with no apparent interest, but when I went inside to get a glass of water (warm work), and came out again maybe five minutes later, it had gone!

Fantastic!

I'm really happy to see this happening, and items we have no use for starting a new life with someone else, it saves on landfill and makes everyone happy - I was just a little puzzled that items only actually disappeared when no one was apparently watching. It was almost as if this was part of the thrill, and to be caught taking something would be taboo or otherwise unacceptable.

This week we had a clear out of our guest bedroom, and put some old and very used bedside cabinets out for 'free collection'. I put them outside on the pavement, and we had a visitor whose car was obscuring the cabinets from general passers by. Even so, they were gone within two hours. It was odd then to think that cheap items we'd bought from MFI, or Argos, and home assembled, that had made their way from England with us, and been in our care for something approaching twenty five years, were now going on to a new life in a new home with new owners. Maybe a garage, maybe a young person starting up home, who knows. I hope they get as much use as we did from them.

Long live the roadside recycling revolution!!!