Litterbugs

Lidl's has the best cottage cheese in the world and I love cottage cheese. I'd run out and it was time to get some more. All I needed was the cheese and some porridge oats but I ended up spending 28 quid. As you do. Tiramisu ice cream, gherkins, sour cream, frozen pizza, chocolate, red wine, spring rolls, you know, all the basic necessities of life.

As I was hefting my huge bag of groceries into the boot, giving all due consideration to my back, this wee shiny red R-plated car squealed into the car park on two side wheels. The driver roared her into a parking space with a great flourish and his front passenger opened the door and dumped a bag of McDonalds rubbish at his feet. I looked on with bemusement at the arrogance of the wee fucker and a bin only thirty seconds from where he sat. He and two of the back seat passengers got out and swaggered into the shop. I wondered what they were for buying? Probably not gherkins.

The thing is their car was shiny and clean. The chaps were well dressed in whatever boring fashionable duds dull and unimaginative fellows wear these days. Their hair was nicely cut and they were altogether shiny and clean. But inside they were dirty, filthy blackguards and obviously their parents have done a rotten job of bringing them up and I itched to go over and give the driver a good slap.

Did I? Of course not. I just drove off, munching on chocolate, in my utterly filthy car, whilst pondering this very blog post.

The Bann Woods

The Good Dog

On Sunday, after the funeral, Bonnie and I went walking through the very lovely Bann Woods. We'd have brought the Dirty Rotten Scunging Devil Dogs with us too, only they'd managed to give Bert the slip. Again. They love it when they see me going out for they know that Bert isn't as vigilant as Nelly. So as they were probably raking through the Loan Hill that left me and the Good Dog to go walking on our own.



The woods are beautiful at this time of year. And quiet too. We didn't see one other soul in an hour's walk.

At Gortgole Road Entrance

I love Nature's litter. I'm like a big kid crunching through piles of Autumn leaves. Not so fond of human litter though. I couldn't help wondering at the selfishness and arrogance of the dirty clart who thought that the entrance to the woods was the perfect place to dump these mattresses. Just let someone else take responsibility for cleaning up your mess, why don't you? Grrr!

Talking Trash

Sixty per cent of my American co-bloggers come from Texas. Yes Ronni, yes El Capitan, yes Walrilla - I'm talking about you'all. Then this morning I discovered that a columnist on the Houston Chronicle had linked to a post I wrote a while ago on the subject of littering. I have to say I was surprised and pleased - of all the blogs in all the towns in all the world, he had to link unto this one.

Here's a comment from Leon Hale's post that I particularly liked. Especially as that is exactly the sort of office I work in. Not that the Moonchaser boys would ever litter. The Best Site Foreman in Ireland wouldn't put up with that sort of thing!

Mr. Hale,
People being what they are, you'll never whoop this problem.
Half of the people in the world are builders, fixers, and cleaners. The other half of the "people" are destroyers. The old saying,"You can't have anything nice, somebody will come along and ruin it for you", is true. Park your brand new car in the parking lot at the store, and some brain damaged kid will come along and 'key' it for you. Build a new building, or fence, and some little darling, who's mother, and mystery father, are proud of his artistic talent, will paint it for you in the middle of the night, without being asked.
Two years ago, when they clear cut, except for a line of trees along the road, and turned the acreage across the street into a moonscape, to build a tight little bunch of McMansions, all huddled together, with yards the size of a postage stamp, we had the lunch wrapper along the fence expereance. Called the builder, like they care. Ha. No response. They're only responsable for the trash on their property. So 'Ol Miss Sandy started to collect their lunch trash in a trash bag, same as you did. Didn't take her long to fill the dang thing up. Then on a nice pretty Sunday afternoon, while the sales office was full of potential new home buyers, (who always wonder what kind of neighbors am I going to get) 'Ol Miss Sandy walked in and deposited all of that lunch trash on the salesman's desk. She took her bag back home for the next time. Now it was on their property, and they were responsible for cleaning it up.
Long story short, next day after lunch, they had one of their trained monkies cleaning up along the road. Ol' Miss Sandy is a joy to live with, just don't get crossways with her. Old folks, just have no patience. Used it up raising kids.

Posted by: Bob Windish at June 23, 2007 09:11 AM

Incidentally I have a cousin lives in Houston. (Hi Jo!) Do you think I'd like it in Texas?