The weather was very different today. All cloud and misery. Much more likely than yesterdays flirtation with sunshine.
While cleaning up the dining table for the proposed four hour meeting with the architect tomorrow, I found my uni id card. I smiled, then frowned as I read the date. I am a student no more. Sad face.
It doesn’t seem so long ago I was just starting out at City Uni. Now I’m just an unemployed graduate.
Speaking of rubbish…we took a trip to Alton today to get rid of a few old bits of timber I removed from the garden a while back. They were railway sleepers (or very much like) that unfortunately had been treated with tar. This poisons the ground and is not a good idea!
The sun had made them sweat their black oily excretions all over the bed nearest the house so there was nought to be done but to remove them. They then sat around the side of the house for the required six months, keeping the old PC carcass company until today.
“Load up Sidney and let’s be done with hoarding those evil timbers,” proclaimed Mirinda and so Sidney was loaded and we left for Alton.
It has to be Alton because the nearest household waste place in Surrey is at Witley. As we used to live in Alton, we know about the Alton one and it is a lot closer than Witley. So, Alton is where we have to go!
Anyway, we arrived, we dumped the…actually I dumped while Mirinda played with her iPhone…timber and various other bits and pieces and then went into Alton for a coffee at Nero’s which wasn’t there when we lived in Alton.
It’s funny at the household waste place because they don’t really tell you what to do with stuff they may want to keep. The PC, for instance, I’d gutted and then left out in the weather in order for it to rust and become completely unidentifiable. This they wanted kept aside. A plastic laundry basket, on the other hand, which had nothing wrong with it, they slung into the big bin. Go figure.
These places are not as exciting as dumps used to be but they are generally less smelly. I think I prefer them although my memories of going to the dump with dad on the weekend are all joyful and pleasant, be they for assorted rubbish or garden waste. There’d always be something interesting sitting on top of the other rubbish to rifle through while dad dumped the stuff we needed rid of. I’m sure other kids my age share these simple pleasures which shall forever be lost to future children. Sad face.