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My hips are grumbling after yesterday's, all day, weightlifting session. Today I hope to diminish the stack of boxes in the kitchen. To join the storage on the TV stage upstairs.
Not sure I want to drive 15 miles, round trip, to the only recycling yard open on Monday-Tuesday. The trailer is stuffed. Which means no more stuffing until it is emptied. Upside is that this more distant recycling yard will take my wife's new find of paint tins. I had driven 20 miles to be rid of the bulk of it. Then found more tins hidden in a kitchen cupboard. Naughty girl!
My CO2 footprint is beginning to outweigh the recycling benefits. Though I can understand the problems when I am quite often the only one present at a rural recycling yard. Saturday is the busy day. Then the old farts get to serial park in front of the busiest containers and gossip like old women!
I can do some shopping at the coop near the more distant recycling yard. It is the nearest outlet since they shut down the one in the village. Which they deliberately engineered by putting a racist dragon on the only checkout which was ever open.
I asked for some cash back once and was told to go to a bank! You are allowed to ask for cash on a card purchase at supermarkets. Not according to this misery! I was at the front of a very long queue too! Talk about embarrassing but that's overt, Danish racism for you. In case you are wondering: I look more like a Dane than most Danes.
She had that deliberate slowness of movement on the checkout. Reserved strictly for village people. Those special people who think their employer actually pays their wages. They have had one for years on the checkout at another chain in another village. I was never forgiven for taking back rotten fruit. A frequent occurrence at this particular supermarket. I kid you not!
This one always pushes my shopping onto the back of the belt with the pivoting bar. Even when I am the only customer. She hasn't spoken a single word to me in years. Throws the receipt petulantly onto the top of the card reader, every single time. Normally she hands the receipt to the customer. So I have to come all the way back round to the front of the checkout from bagging up my shopping at the rear. To where the next customer is already standing and waiting to pay. I'd normally give this particular supermarket outlet a miss. Except for their stocking items I simply can't get elsewhere.
This degree of specialisation of product stocking was what drove my tricycling shopping to such foolish mileages. [Kilometerages?] No single outlet stocked everything we regularly needed. So it was a case of riding [or now driving] to so many, different, village supermarkets. The same holds true for DIY chains. They have, or had, builder's merchants in only certain villages. Which could often mean a long detour for small items.
07.00 The hedge is too dense [at 100m] to see if the dustbin men have been. I borrowed the empty property's dustbin to double up on capacity. That way I was able to house all the spare bags which had been lying on the ground for a week. They refused to take those extra bags and they only call once a fortnight in winter.
I shan't be able to see what has happened until I go for my morning walk. This commercial bin emptying service was unable to provide a bulk pickup even at my own expense. "We only do bulk pickup twice a year and then only by appointment."
In case you think I got out of the wrong side of the bed this morning: I can't get out of the wrong side because my [late] wife's bed is covered in a huge pile of bedding. Yet to be sorted. "Never put off until tomorrow what can't be done in a fortnight." Procrastination is a fine balance between time and mind.
An early walk leading to a detour towards the marsh across a field by the spray tracks. The replacement Scarpa boots are beginning to behave themselves. I am leaving the laces loose and this seems to help. Only my ankle bones seem to be suffering at the moment. The dustbins have not been emptied yet.
11.25. Still no dustbins emptied. Just back from the more distant recycling yard. They had a charity shop recycling container so I dumped all my LPs in there. That felt better than sending them to the incinerator. All the old magazines and personal papers have all gone into the paper recycling container. I went shopping and have expanded my [toast/roll] diet to include cod in breadcrumbs.
12.00 I have stacked more fuel for the stove in the shed. Now I have completely run out of steam.
13.15 Managed a nap before lunch. The dustbins don't look any different from this distance.
14.00 The dustbin lorry arrived. They emptied both bins and drove away. All gone! Phew! 😊
15.20 The 16" cafe globe, overhead, landing light has been moved to a safe place. The ceiling flex has been provided with a new bulb fitting. And yes, I did turn the power off. And yes, I double checked with a neon test screwdriver. And yes, I did fit an LED bulb. And yes, I'm still here. I inverted the table lamp shade and it now hangs just below the ceiling. "Ludicrous" does not even begin to describe its appearance. In comparison with a cafe globe? No contest. I bet it will show up all the dust on the TV!
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