WHETHER they are grey, blue or brown, wheelie bins (or lack of them) are the bane of my life.

 

Recently I returned home from work to discover that my FOURTH grey wheelie bin had been stolen.

Noting down yet another crime reference number from Police Scotland, I called the council to be advised again that if I lived in a council house, I would be entitled to a shiny new bin for free.

However, as I owned my home, I would have to pay £46.45.

And, as this was my fourth time paying for a domestic waste bin, I was more than a bit hacked off.

What's the big deal I hear you say.

But, a few days prior to this latest theft, I had put out my brown garden waste bin for collection, only to discover when I returned home, that it was still in the same position as I'd left it ... and was still full of garden waste.

Anxious, and now rather ratty, I called the council and spoke to a young man who informed me that most likely my bin would have been too heavy for uplift.

Now this confused me because at 5 ft 2, I had managed to wheel it on to the street no bother.

"You can only put the following items in your garden waste bin," he began, reeling out an obviously well-versed list.

"Flowers, plants, grass cuttings, hedge trimmings, leaves, twigs, small branches and bark ..."

Stopping briefly to inhale he continued: "But you must not put the following items in your garden waste bin."

And he was off again: "Bricks, soils, turf, plant post, or garden furniture."

"What am I supposed to do with the bin now then?" I dared to ask.

"You will need to empty it and remove any of the items I have just mentioned," was his response, and before I could add anything further, he ended with: "Thank you for your continued participation in the brown bin garden waste recycling scheme."

Aaargh!!! I now wished my brown bin had been stolen.

A couple of days later, following a bit of a clear out, I decided to call the council again to arrange a 'special uplift'.

"Good morning,"

I was in a better mood.

"I would like to arrange to have a couple of items collected for waste."

And I gave the young man my name and address.

."Certainly," was the reply. "And what is the first item you have for uplift?"

"Em, a six foot Christmas tree."

"No problem Ms Bell, we can uplift your tree for recycling."

He paused before adding: "But, prior to collection you need to remove all Christmas decorations."

"Eh?" I couldn't believe he actually thought I still might have all the decorations on it.

"Next item please."

"A washing machine."

"No problem Ms Bell," replied the helpful lad before adding, "but (funny how you know there's always going to be a 'but'), prior to collection, you must remove the concrete inner from the washing machine."

"The concrete what?"

My good mood instantly vanished and I was now raging.

"How the heck can you expect me to dismantle a blinkin' washing machine? And anyway," my voice was high pitched with frustration, "I've only got two screw drivers."

Aaarghh!!!

Finally, putting aside feelings of self pity for my never-ending wheelie bin predicament, I decided to take some positive action as my kitchen was starting to get a bit whiffy with smelly bins which had no-where to go given the latest disappearance of my bin.

So I bundled them into my car and headed for the local waste disposal site.

However, on reaching the site I noticed that cars were doing u-turns and heading back towards me, and soon I discovered the waste site was closed for maintenance.

"It just gets better and better," I muttered inwardly.

Exasperated, I did a u-turn and began to return home with my car full of rubbish, when suddenly the awful smell got the better of me and I decided to open my driver's window.

Now, the window had recently been repaired as the glass had fallen to the bottom of the door, and yes, you've guessed it, the second I pressed the button the whole glass window collapsed, just about 20 seconds before the heaviest hail storm ever blasted in.

Hailstones ricocheted inside my car like bullets from an AK-47 and I was now completely drookit from my head to my waist.

Eventually, safely home, I dried myself and sat down with a cup of tea to calm my nerves and take stock of my recycling dilemma.

My blue wheelie bin had been stolen and not replaced.

My brown wheelie bin was full to the gunnels with garden waste and I had no clue what I was going to do with the inappropriate contents.

My washing machine remained in the garden, and had now become part of my garden furniture.

And , I had no grey domestic waste wheelie bin/.

But I did have a car full of smelly bin bags!!!!

Contemplating nipping to the shop for a box of matches, I couldn't help but recall the days when disposing of rubbish was straightforward.

You put your rubbish outside.

The cheery bin men took it away.

End of.