Skipping
It has moved house with me four times and still only works on one side so you have to frantically pedal with one foot to get a wheezy chord or two out of it.
Actually, the harmonium went beside the skip, not in it, as I hoped someone might take it (and I think they have). The dustmen had fun quipping about busking and lots of passers-by stopped for a look, so it had its moment of glory even though Freecyclists, friends and various studios hadn't wanted it.
Council skip day is fun- all the hidden neighbours are out, throwing away their knackered clothes racks, unwanted scatter cushions and broken hobbies; the dustman sits on a discarded chair, rifling through CDs in a carrier bag before throwing them in the skip in disgust and disappointment.
As I dumped an old cobwebby doormat, he offered me a dirty white plastic double telephone socket adaptor, recoiling in disbelief when I told him I didn't want it, as though he'd offered me a pure gold ingot!
As one skip fills, another creeps down the street on its lorry; a white van circles, passing every ten minutes in search of carrion.
Offloading these things is amazingly therapeutic!
2 Comments:
"he offered me a dirty white plastic double telephone socket adaptor, recoiling in disbelief when I told him I didn't want it, as though he'd offered me a pure gold ingot!"
Again, brilliant...
Poor harmonium; I hope somebody did rescue it. Now I'm going to regret not cadging it (Nettie on the other hand, isn't).
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