Civics (2)

This trolley had been in the bed of the stream down Longmead Road for some weeks before the sight got the better of me. Presumably no part of the duties of the people who mowed the banks of the stream or of the regular litter pickers.

My first attempt was without rope, and while I dare say I would have got there in the end, I decided that discretion was the better part of valour, with such things as backs and ribs taking a while to heal these days. But for my second attempt I took a length of blue agricultural rope, clearly intended for getting ironmongery out of ditches, and the trolley was retrieved from the ditch with neither sweat nor toil. That came when I came to walk the thing home, to find that it had a will of its own, particularly when on an uneven or sloping service. Plus a lot of bumping and clattering. Just one conversation with a passer-by about the shocking waste involved in getting such a thing into a ditch and then letting it lie.

Let the thing dry out for a bit, then brushed most of the grot off with stiff hand brush, this last including a fair number of pigeon feathers and winding up in our compost dustbin.