Where better, dear reader, to fritter away some quality time on a super sunny Sunday afternoon, jostling for space with a crowd of like-minded individuals, than Sir Alf Ramsey Way? Not at some ultimately disappointing and costly footy game 400m down the road, being let down by a team that Roy over the road calls "the rubbish", ironically enough — no sirree, Bobby Robson — 'cos Alf's alley is home to the dump. Oops, I meant one of the town's "household waste and recycling centres".

Just trash, me and you
It's in everything we do
— Suede, Trash (1996)

There's a scene in LA Story, one of those earlier funnier Steve Martin films, where Sarah Jessica Parker (before she was SJP from SATC) invites Steve's weatherman character out, suggesting that it might be fun to undergo colonic irrigation. The weatherman goes in nervously and emerges shakily as if he'd been riding a bronco. Compare and contrast a trip to the tip: you summon the willpower, cram the car's crannies with accumulated detritus, and come away feeling cleaner, more airy and less bloated.

Smallest to largest from yesterday's outing:

1. three bags of glass bottles
2. six bags of plastic containers, tins and cans
3. one dismantled toy plastic kitchen
4. one wooden chest, painted pink, handles missing

Always good to cycle and recycle, as with the glass and plastic into their specially designated skips. On less sure ground with the toy kitchen; how much oil went into manufacturing that? At least the chest joined a forest of items in the WOOD container. Would have been better to reuse, though its last legs went AWOL some time back.

If You Take Away With You Nothing Else

A welcome return for this once popular closing section:

1. Tony Soprano's profession: "waste management consultant"
2. Ian Dury's lyric: "I could be the ticket man at Fulham Broadway Station, What a waste!"
3. Viridor Waste Management's advice: "slim your bin!"

Be seeing you!

Ed