Waste Disposal

I live in the Bloomsbury area in the London Borough of Camden. I belong to a residents association and one of our persistent complaints relate to "Waste Disposal".

It would be tedious to recount the various combinations of services. A quick survey shows that there are green bags for paper, plastics (must be bottle shaped), glass. Then there are black plastic boxes for paper and cardboard. These green bags and black boxes are cleared (emptied) once a week.

Some streets have general waste collection daily and other streets have collections once and sometimes twice a week. Then there are waste bins on the street and street cleaners who collect and dispose of street debris in green bags emptied into handcarts.

With all of these provisions we have cause for frequent complaints.

NOW, in the interest of "Greenness" and environmental concerns, we are being asked to separate waste into kitchen waste, paper, glass and plastic. Camden is putting a great deal of effort into grooming us to adopt this waste separation behaviour.

I wish to point out that the population of these islands did separate their waste during the years 1939-45 ... but then we were fighting for our lives. Maybe we need a similar threat and I propose "environmental disaster". By the way the Romans had similar problems. However ancient waste disposal makes archaeologists rejoice.

Walter Vego.

A ploughman's lunch

We carry our memories with us like a tortoise in a shell. In my case I remember trivia, more trivia and events that make me remember that I can preface a grumpy note with the introduction "I remember the good old days". So, here goes!

When I was a student, (a long time ago), my courses in ecology took me into the countryside where I found pubs that would serve reasonable and cheap quantities of excellent food. No gastro pubs or cloth napkins either. I found that a ploughman's lunch was a fantastic bargain, satisfying both pocket and appetite. It consisted of a large amount of well matured cheddar, thick slices of farm baked bread, pickled onions, thick Branston pickle, apple chutney, butter and if I could afford it ... a pint of bitter...

A few days ago I asked for a Ploughman's in a country pub ... name withheld ... the bread was "a baguette" forming a choking bolus to be swallowed, the cheese, unfit for mice ... grated, the pickle spread on the cheese in the bread and unavoidable. I ate some of it, suffered in silence and made no complaint. How could I? Since no one now remembers what a ploughman's lunch was really like.

Walter Vego