The seeing isn't the problem.
It's the hearing.
Right now, it's my alternate Wednesday morning alarm clock as they empty the recycling wheelie bins (normal rubbish is bags, though we bought another wheelie bin for that). Every day I collect various cans and bottles from the path up the hill and dump them in someone's conveniently placed recycling bin. It's full of Stella empties which makes me sad. No one should have to drink Stella.
It would be nice if people would move their uncollected rubbish off the pavement. It's almost all houses and they could easily move it. It's not going to disappear before next Wednesday.
(My granddad was a bin man, which I was told by my mum not to tell anyone, because we're like
that posh. Oddly, he used to be miner and then the pit fell on his head or some other calamity that involved them removing a bone from his leg and putting it in his back along with an LP sized metal plate that he could play a tune on. I say oddly, because I'm sure hefting bins in pre-wheelie days wasn't exactly an improvement over being a miner).
