IN THE grand scheme of things I suppose having my wheelie bin stolen is not really a big deal.

However, this is the fourth wheelie bin that has been taken and, to be honest, I am getting a bit fed up with it.

Apart from the cost (about £45 a time) it is the inconvenience of not having a bin. Stockpiling rubbish until there is enough for a trip to the recycling centre is no fun.

"I'm phoning the police," I announced to my daughter in a fit of rage.

"Best of luck with that then, mum," she laughed down the phone. "They'll think you've lost the plot, reporting a missing wheelie bin."

But I was undeterred.

"Morning, I would like to report a stolen item," I said.

"Okay madam," answered a very polite lady, who introduced herself as Alicia.

"What item have you had stolen?" she inquired, while tapping her keyboard furiously in the background.

"Well, I'm sure you have far more important things to be getting on with," I babbled, becoming a bit embarrassed by my own words, "but my wheelie bin has been stolen."

"Okay madam," she paused. "Let me take some details."

To my very great relief Alicia did not seem to be irked.

She continued, "I'll just give you a crime reference number."

A crime reference number? I shook my head. "Uh oh," I thought. "This is starting to sound serious. I wish I hadn't bothered to make the call."

"Look Alicia," I said, attempting to backtrack. "I probably shouldn't have troubled you. After all. It's only a wheelie bin."

"Not at all," replied an understanding Alicia. "It's still a crime, after all."

So, with my crime reference number noted, I thanked Alicia for her help and assumed it was the last I would ever hear about my stolen bin.

However, the next evening I heard a knock at my door and was surprised to see two young police officers standing in front of me.

One had a long, thick chain and padlock in hand.

"Evening Ms Bell," said one of the officers.

"We believe you have had a wheelie bin stolen." Gobsmacked, I stammered: "Please come in."

Immediately, I attempted to justify my irritation at having my fourth wheelie bin stolen and apologised again for making the call and wasting their time.

"Not at all," I was assured. "You should always report such a crime.

"After all, someone has come on to your property and taken something that wasn't theirs," said the officer.

He continued, "Would you also, please speak to your neighbours and ask them to report if they have had a bin stolen. That way we can build up a picture and gauge the level of crime in the area."

Hand­ing me the thick, 4ft long chain and padlock, the younger officer said, "Here you go. Chain your bins together. That should help prevent another theft."

Thanking the officers for taking the time to visit, I was then curious to know the particular reasons why bins go missing, so I decided to Google 'missing wheelie bins'.

And the results surprised me.

Apparently, a wheelie bin from Peterborough was spotted by a holidaymaker 1200 miles away in Bulgaria full of cement. And I read, "Burglars have been known to use bins to carry away stolen items."

Another page revealed that a runaway ostrich was captured and put into one.

I couldn't believe my eyes. And in some parts of the country, apparently, thieves sell bins back to owners at a lower price than the council, which creates a black market in bins.

The list was endless.

On checking yet another website I found a list as long as your arm of helpful tips for preventing theft of your bin. One man suggested: "Use a soldering iron and solder your number and postcode on to your bin."

Another suggested taking your bin into your house and leaving it in the hallway.

"You never had all this trouble when it was the old metal dustbins," piped in my pal Mae when I regaled her with my troubles.

"I know," I agreed. "It's like there's bin wars going on all over the country."

"But at least now I've got my huge chain to secure my bins together, so I should be okay."

"Aye," chuckled Mae. "And I'd love to be there on the first frosty morning when your chains are frozen solid and you have to defrost them before you can put your bin out."

"Oh well," I laughed, as I thought about that image. "At least I'll still have my bin!"