Fun on the Farm

 Mrs C and I have been living in Warwickshire for two years, but only now have we accumulated sufficient rubbish to make a visit to the dump recycling centre justifiable. Back in beautiful Ruislip one simply turned up.  Our new local authority, Stratford-upon-Avon, takes a tougher line and one must book a time. No problem, I went online and chose a convenient slot for last Sunday.

The online booking system was provided by Eventbrite. I registered, received an e-ticket, turned up at the right time, drove straight into the dump without apparently being checked by anyone and emptied my car boot.

The end of the affair? No. Eventbrite do not seem to know the services provided by Burton Farm Recycling Centre (the clue is hidden in the name). They think I have been to a gig. They sent me this

I am overjoyed with their good wishes in hoping I "had a good time". I sure did, guys, one of the best "go to the dump, chuck broken stuff in a bin and get the hell out" times I have ever had. Sincerely. I loved every minute. So did Mrs C. 

But it doesn't stop there. They want me to follow Burton Farm Recycling Centre.  Because I might miss out on things - premieres, exclusive viewings, chance to go behind the scenes and meet the stars, parties with celebrity dumpers, photoshoots with piles of crap arranged by Tracey Emin, weekend raves getting high on the fumes from leaking batteries... who knows what glittering gatherings might be in store if I subscribe? And if I do, I shall find out first about the next happenings, it says. Won't the neighbours be impressed?

As to their "Let's make more plans" plea:- No, thanks awfully,  I don't make plans for the disposal of broken vacuum cleaners, used packaging, failed lamp stands, printers without cables and the like. They gather in small groups here and there in the dark recesses of the house and, when the time is ripe, we call them together and rehome them. This activity requires no plans, just a response to being unable to open the door to the spare room because it is crammed full of boxes, bits of wood, disintegrating cd stands and the like.

I suppose the next communication will be on the lines of "You had a wonderful time at Burton Farm, now visit other great recycling centres in your area."   I won't be bothering. They're rubbish.