The Wombles of Wimbledon Common
We’ve had a problem with seagulls in our street recently. Well, the whole suburb really. You see it’s that time. Council hard rubbish collection, where everyone takes all the crap that’s been cluttering their spare rooms, garages and back yards and pile it up on the nature strip. Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for it. We’ve even gotten rid of a few bricks from the Great Wall of Adelaide. In theory I think it’s a magnificent piece of public service and worth every cent of the council rates we don’t pay because we’re renting. In theory.
In practice it’s a different matter. Now I have nothing against the idea of people going through my garbage. If someone can put something the Man of the House (tearfully) parted with to good use then good for them. They must be creative people. Really creative. It’s a time-honoured tradition, and half the reason why the council puts out brochures advertising when they’re going to do it. Have your stuff out by sunset on the Sunday before your collection is scheduled, the brochure says. Here’s a helpful list of when all of the collections will be. It’s kind of clever really. By doing it that way, by the time mid-week rolls around and they’re actually doing the collection half of it’s been picked over by scaven… recyclers.
Unfortunately it makes leaving the house a dangerous proposition. If you’re carrying anything, like a bag for example, the second you open that front door a ravening horde of Wombles will descend upon you, pinning you to the ground and hunting for anything they might use. Wombles notwithstanding, people walking down the road (or worse, cycling) become more interested in the piles of stuff than in, say, watching where they’re going. On Monday night I saw one cyclist just about run headlong into a car that was backing out of its driveway because his head had turned around almost 180 degrees as he studied a particularly promising pile of crap. The bad news for him was that his search was doomed from the start. 24 hours after it was put out, the Wombles will have stripped it of anything with any potential at all.
It all just goes to show, one man’s trash is another man’s traffic hazard.
Tagged: domestic inconveniences, Entertainment.