Live and let eco-die

Ok, so I try my best. But there are many obstacles. To be a good citizen is so hard these days. Not only is it a sin to be seen scoffing a Mars bar in public in case you get fat and burst into a thousands fat pieces, you have to organise your rubbish into categories of varying levels.

First you have the material division: plastics, cans, cardboard etc. But it’s not that simple, I cannot just put my tin into the bin. I have to check if it’s the right kind of tin, clean, no labels and to do so I have to read the bin-bag, which is difficult at the best of times when various milk-bottles, pizza-boxes and beer cans are rattling in the bottom.

Secondly, the days of rubbish collection are also confusing. Recently a keen-green lady stopped me in the street whilst I was eating a Mars bar. She wanted to give me recycling bags and then asked me if I knew which day was my rubbish collection day. It was the way she said it, tilting her head slightly and smiling like a sin-free, heaven bound, cherub of the eco-world. I did know; it is Wednesday. But I have to put the bins out on Tuesday night and got confused under the pressure; and I had a large mouthful of gooey-Mars bar mess in my mouth, sticking my words together: "Yes, it's Tuesday."

She shook her head: “No it isn’t. Someone doesn’t know their bin-day”. In the middle of the street, opposite the Co-op, I was getting a dressing down from a self-righteous, all-knowing bin-days lady, “it’s Wednesday, for normal rubbish, once fortnightly for recycling green bags alternating with compost white bags and food waste collection is….”, it was similar to when I ask for directions. I always start well; I want, and need, to hear the information. But somewhere in the middle of needing to know and panicking because I’m not concentrating, I never receive any meaningful information. All the colours and days turned into lefts and rights and before I knew it, I was a recycling mess.

Laden with leaflets, different coloured bags and eco-lady’s words rattling in my head, I went home to decipher the rubbish collection system. An hour later and I had learnt that I really needed a pen and paper to make notes. By the time I had completed my masterpiece rota, I didn't care what colour bag went with each rubbish type and so resorted to eating my Mars bar and putting the wrapper in whichever colour bag I pleased.

Live and let eco-die and I can feel guilt free. And if I go to eco-hell, well, at least it will be well organised.