Bin bother

Oh wheelie bin, one day you will be mine

I can't wait for the day when I can enjoy the luxury of owning a wheelie bin. Yes you read that correctly. I dream of owning a wheelie bin.

You see I live in a small block of flats which means we have to chuck our rubbish in a communal wheelie bin roughly the size of a skip. Until I was forced to be part of his communal rubbish-flinging, I never thought I'd consider a wheelie bin a luxury. But I do now.

Because what I have discovered is that when people see a very large bin that looks a bit like a skip, they also see a chance to clear out their garage/loft/entire house.

Every single day, a new objects has been flung at the bin. (They never quite manage to put things in the bin, just prop it against the bin. I suppose if it was too much effort to go to the local tip, then how can I expect the dumper to actually lift the object and place it inside the bin out of view? It is, after all, much easier to drive past and hurtle it in the vague direction of it's new home.)

And I'm always amazed at the things that magically appear by the bin overnight. A dining table complete with chairs. A three seater sofa, plus matching armchair. A wardrobe with built in dressing table. Television. Bikes. Stools. Rollerskates. Chests of drawers. Mattresses. I just need a teamaker and I could furnish a house. Or a gameshow conveyor belt.

And much of it is in quite good condition. It often looks like someone is trying to deliberately make a home by the bins. Maybe they are. Bring the indoors out. Hey, why not go the whole hog and dip into the bin for dinner too.

I guess in London it could easily be mistaken for a Tracy Emin-esque art installation. Perhaps I should stick up a sign that says 'A smaller branch of the Tate' and charge people a tenner to look. People would probably come too. If they're prepared to pay the tube fare to go and see some of the tat that's in the Tate Modern, I'm sure they'd trek to south London to see the 'old furniture' exhibition.

But what made me laugh, was the council's view on it when I reported it. To be fair, much of the stuff disappears pretty much as quickly as it arrives. (the wardrobe went within hours) But then other things tend to hang around for days and weeks. (the three seater sofa was very unpopular. Possibly thanks to the rather suspect yellow patches on the upholstery and the way the stuffing appeared to be vomiting itself out of a seat cushion.)

So after growing tired of the eyesore, I called the council who were uncharacteristically helpful and said they'd remove it forthwith. I then went all Meldrew, said this was a continuous problem and regaled the lady I was talking to with the list of items above. I suggested it might be worth putting a warning sign up, you know, threatening a hefty flytipping fine. It might act as a deterrent.

And do you know what she said?

"We can't do that, a sign will lower the tone of the area."

Ah. How silly of me to suggest the erection of such an eyewatering monstrosity. Because this dirty, urine stained mattress doesn't lower the tone whatsoever does it?

And this is my favourite bit of dumped furniture - the mirror means I can check my hair and makeup when I empty my bin! Perfect! Also love the use of stickers.