My walk of shame won’t change my ways, but at least it paid off

● A visit to the reverse vending machine went smoothly, despite all the tales of rejection, writes Liam Collins

It is known colloquially as the “walk of shame”. That long walk down Main Street with wine and beer bottles clinking in a big plastic bag as you head to the local bottle bank.

Depending on your tastes, there is now a new walk, but this is the walk of the righteous, those recycling used cans and plastic bottles in the shiny new machines installed for the purpose of returning your deposit of between 15c and 25c.

Where I live, near two big shopping centres, there used to be a bottle bank tucked away discreetly in a corner of the car park of one of them. But they were renovated recently and now that bottle bank is gone.

So, we are left with that walk of shame, passing people on the street who know exactly where we are going and why.

Of course, I could get into a car and drive, but because I’m “green” by nature (without wearing the T-shirt), I no longer own a car. I prefer to walk, cycle or use public transport.

I usually drink beer or wine from bottles, because by doing so I am doing my bit for the environment. Who knows what really happens to cans and plastic bottles when you toss them in the green bin?

And while the old-style bottle banks are generally tucked away in out-of-the-way places, there is no privacy in the new world of can recycling. The reverse vending machines — so called because they take back rather than dispense — are right there at the supermarket entrance in the path of shoppers coming and going. There is no hiding place.

Although the cans have been building up, I’ve been putting off making a visit.

Firstly, I do not like being on public view for all and sundry to see me stuffing the detritus of my alcohol consumption into a machine. And secondly, I’ve heard stories of rejection — not every can or plastic bottle is accepted.

Then there are the other teething problems. I’ve heard the machines fill up easily and people have to go searching for sticks or brush handles to push the contents to the back, so that they can get theirs in.

But this is not just about recycling, its about getting your money back. So it was with some trepidation that I put my green sack on my back and trudged down the avenue, hoping none of the neighbours were watching, to try it out for myself.

As I was pondering the machine, a young woman came and stood behind me. I waved her in front, not so much because I was being gracious but because I wanted to see how it was done.

It all seemed very simple, and looking at the auld fella with the sack, she felt a pang of sympathy and offered to assist me. I demurred, embarrassed by the number of beer cans in my sack compared to the healthy empty fruit juices in hers.

Anyway, much to my disappointment the process was as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

Friday evening and the shopping centre was relatively quiet. The machine performed exactly as it said on the tin. Most of the plastic bottles and cans were sucked seamlessly into the machine and I watched my returns totting up.

Here’s a thing, which I only found out through extensive research: Carling lager, which is brewed in Brexit-friendly Burton-on-Trent in England, is acceptable in the recycling machines. But Rheinbacher Premium Pilsner, which comes from Germany, the country that gave us Petra Kelly and the original Greens, is not.

The supermarket doesn’t charge a deposit on a can of Rheinbacher, which claims to be recyclable, but it won’t go into the machine outside the store where it’s sold.

The machine also rejected three of my daughter’s Coca-Cola cans — one was a bit bashed, but the other two got the thumbs down for no reason I could see.

In the end it came to 19 cans and four recyclable plastic bottles — all undamaged and with the little “returnable” symbol. My payout was €3.85, which I can redeem in any of the shops where these machines have been installed.

OK, it’s not a fortune, and some people have questioned why they would bother going to all that trouble for such a measly return. Which is a bit like the supermodel Linda Evangelista saying she “wouldn’t get out of bed for less than €10,000 a day”.

At least you’re getting your own money back. While I might be regarded as a modern miser, I do not believe in throwing away ready cash, even if it is only 15c a can.

Besides, it’s good for the environment and maybe one day they will extend it to glass bottles. When I was a young lad growing up in the 1950s, you got 3d back on an empty lemonade bottle.

Apparently, we go through 1.7 billion cans and bottles a year in Ireland; I’m hoping to help turn back the tide and maybe even enjoy using my deposit to buy a few more beers.

Will recycling cans like this change my ways? Probably not.

As the saying goes, “better a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy”, so I’ll probably stick to the bottles. They’re more to my taste, even if I do have to make the walk of shame every so often.