Recycling centre debut rubbish es all notions I’m a modern guy
MY first foray into the world of recycling centres was one I won’t quickly forget. ‘Fail to prepare, prepare to fail,’ Roy Keane once said and I can attest to the veracity of his aphorism.
Last Saturday, after weeks of procrastinating, I loaded up my car with seven unsorted bags of recycling detritus and drove to the bring centre on the ring road.
Being a single Dad means my recycling and waste bins aren’t as full as they used to be, (half full more like it), so I decided to stop paying for bin collections and to follow the lead of my Polish neighbours and do my own deliveries to waste and bring centres in a bid to offset the ever increasing childrens’ activities bills. I pictured getting the children involved and setting them on a more environmentally friendly path, perhaps by getting them to sort all the non sharp items.
I was on a mission, to save the planet (and a few bob). Mission 1 complete as I did bring the recyclable items to said centre. It all went downhill from there. As I was the only conscientious member of the human race at the centre (not forgetting the yellow jacketed eagle eyed recycling assistant, I proceeded to look around at all the different sections: big yellow dumpsters for cardboard, plastics, food cans newspapers etc.
I ripped open the first bag and started snaffling through its contents like a starved raccoon (it was lunchtime). There were signs up explaining how much oxygen I was going to help save the planet and how my each and every gesture towards Mother Earth was to the benefit of man and woman kind. In a word, I felt great.
Then, I opened the boot.
A stale, dirty kitten smell greeted me. (Fear not, it was the old, soggy rubbush and not an actual kitten!)
Suddenly overcome by the realisation that I had managed to do everything possible wrong I started to feel a bit self conscious.
‘Everyone must think I’m a right dope,’ I thought to myself as I yoyod back and forth to the various bins, rubbish cradled in my arms like jelly.
Two cars arrived in quick succession, their occupants emerging from behind upflung boot doors with neat rectangular tray containers.
‘What a novel concept,’ I thought as I overturned all of the bags into the boot. I had seen my neighbours with said contraptions, but never imagined I would be bringing my own rubbish to a bring centre. Not out of snobbery, mind, it’s just I always used the wheelie bin service from my renting days, all the way through my first home years.
Back at the recycling centre, the first person gave me a pitying look, before leaving four minutes later. The second guy was more of a yoyoer and he spent about ten minutes getting rid of a considerable amount of rubbish.
When he left the watchful recyclables dispensing assistant came over and said ‘you’re almost there’, quickly followed by: ‘It’s a good thing you didn’t leave it til 2 as we close on the stroke of 3.’
I looked at my watch as I scooped the last load of paper into my arms and it was 1.35.
Bidding my new soul mate farewell I gingerly got into my car and fled the scene mortified. When I got home I added to my shopping list plastic container holder yokes, only for the €2 coin to drop that I had forgotten two bags in the back seat.
The cautionary moral of the story is recycling is great for the environment so do recycle at bring centres but don’t do what I did!