GLASS RECYCLING IS SHAMING

Is there something just a little bit shaming about glass recycling?

I’ve noticed that I seem to amass glass in robust sacks that once held dog food or grey nylon bags left by the postman. Eventually, I start to feel like The Hoarder

Next Door (Channel 4, narrated by Olivia Coleman surprisingly, in 2012).

I seem to have empty glass bottles of wine and beer on an epic scale this year. Empty jars of jams and pickled onions that I’ve no recollection of consuming. I venture to the car park with the different coloured bins and the same thing always happens.

I discuss with myself that I must cut down on red wine (that’s the shame).

I then see someone else, a stranger recycling as well, and I blurt out something like ‘someone’s had a good party?’

Almost always the fellow recycler is more in shame mode and doesn’t want to unpick why they also seem to have three-quarters of a metric tonne of glass spilling out of their boot. There’s no easy conversational way out so we turn to the incredibly satisfying task of posting glass bottles through the hole of the greedy recycle bin, hoping for a smash.

The entire experience is always ruined when you either pour wine/ Worcestershire sauce/ prosecco down your wrist. Or, even worse, you get smeared by a jar of marmite. That really is a low blow.

I’d love to have glass recycling as part of the council collection. That way I can judge my neighbours from the comfort of my own home and they can avoid the ridiculous comments.