Someone’s trash was my treasure

AFEW years ago, my daughter asked me: ‘Mum, what do you want for your birthday?’ as I had recently begun a new career as a freelance writer and was turning the back bedroom into a study, I replied: ‘Well, a wooden letter rack and a wastepaper basket would be most useful.’ Later that day, I had to take some household rubbish along to the recycling centre. Staff directed the public to the correct areas — cardboard on the left, garden refuse at the end, metal on the right, all other rubbish to a big bay. There was room for just six cars at a time to deposit their items, so we waited in a lengthy, but orderly, queue. Eventually, my turn came, so I pulled up and started to reverse, only to find that the chap behind me, in a noisy red Mini, had decided he wasn’t going to wait any longer and whizzed in, grabbing the space. He shrugged as I loudly complained, but a few seconds later another opening became available at the other end of the bay. I quickly drove there and reversed in. I opened the tailgate to dump my rubbish and turned to see where it could go on this high pile of disgorged waste — and could not believe what I saw behind my car. Standing side by side on the concrete parking space, separate from all the other refuse, were a perfect wooden letter rack and a spotless wicker wastepaper basket. The hairs rose on the back of my neck. I picked up the two items and put them in the back of my car to take home. They are still serving me well, but to this day I have no explanation, but something very weird and utterly spooky had happened.

Elizabeth Wright, Eastbourne.