Ornament ban a load of trash
how we can slash the amount of rubbish we bury in the ground. Ban ornaments. According to the statistics, the building industry generates the most rubbish, followed by business and then local councils. They have got it wrong.
If you piled up the ornaments owned by all the old people in Townsville, they’d make Castle Hill look like a doll’s house.
Not that the old people are to blame. It’s their relatives. I speak with authority on the subject because I am one ( an old person) and I have many ( relatives).
I don’t think I ever bought myself an ornament in my life. I have no use for a frog made of wire riding a bicycle made of wire. I don’t understand the aesthetic qualities of two figures, made from bits of bark and dead leaves. And I have no shelf space left for a piece of resin that contains a 1953 postage stamp, unused, that I can’t even stick on a letter.
But I have all these things. If they’d been given to me by people I didn’t like I could throw them away, but they weren’t. They were given to me by friends and relatives. I can only conclude that they don’t like me.
Surely you wouldn’t give someone you liked a piece of rock that looks like a lizard? It’s not even a good likeness. It looks like a lizard that had been hit by . . . well, a piece of rock. But even so: I can’t chuck ’ em out.
If you’re under 40 years old, you won’t know what I mean. But depend upon it . . . ornaments are out there, and they’re coming your way. Ask your parents.
I remember giving my mother a glass thingummybob that had colours running through it. She cooed over it and told me how wonderful it would look on the windowsill. I was only 12.
When she died six years ago it was still there. It was only then that I realised it’s possible to expire under the weight of ornaments just as surely as if you’d been hit by a ton of concrete.
I have five children and a gross or two or grandchildren, and I have birthdays. You can extrapolate from these two statistics that I’ve also paid structural engineers to redesign my shelving.
I’ll get my own back, though. When I die, all my ornaments will be bequeathed back to my offspring and my grand-offspring.
I mean, it was them who gave me this stuff in the first place, so they, at least, must value it.
You think? My children tell me I live in too much clutter, that my taste ( my taste?) in ornaments is awful and that when I’m dead, it’s all going in the bin. And then into landfill. If we ban ornaments, we can save the planet.