AM I retired, or am I not?
As an old soldier who has grafted all my life, do I qualify for tranquillity in my twilight years, or am I subtly employed by the local council to help in the recycling programme, by virtue of complying with their instructions shoved through my letterbox, telling me to pull my finger out and cut cardboard into a convenient size to fit into the latest white bag.
A bag which, if the labelling is obscured, will be indistinguishable from the white bag designated for newspaper, post cards, envelopes and the like.
The instructions inform me that I may put newspaper in this latest white bag also.
Having filled my two brown bins with hedge clippings, for which I am very thankful, I have a smelly grey bin.
Smelly by virtue of only being collected once every two weeks, even in extremely hot weather.
I must now get my facts right, lest I become confused (easily done at my age).
Let me think, ah yes, we now come to the green box in which we collect tins, plastic and glass bottles.
It has been disclosed recently, that the cost of melting the glass for re-use far exceeds the value of the recovered glass.
Interesting is it not? Please don't misunderstand me.
I see the value and commonsense in recycling projects.
My father said "get a job on't council, it's a doddle." It looks like I've got one.
BILL AUSTIN, Bute Road, Blackburn.
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