Sunday, November 06, 2005

I have a problem with the wheelie bin. To start with, it's a rather nasty shade of green. Then, I forget to put it out on collection day (Thursday). Then, I forget to bring it back in. Last night, as we returned from a hectic day at Ikea, Leeds and the surrounding looks-the-same-as-any-other retail park, our how-come-he-knows-so-much-about-everyone's-business? neighbour brought my lack of wheelie bin expertise to our attention, hardly sparing a thought for me, laden down with Swedish meatball and 75p hot dog aftermath, a rather large picture frame and a carrier bag full of assorted Ikea nik-naks. I'd spotted him stood on his doorstep as I conducted my reverse parking manoeuvre and knew he was going to say something inane about something only annoying him (I thought it would be 'you came within 75mm of my Mitsubishi then, young man'). So, I offered some conversation about the fireworks blasting off overhead by way of an ice breaking nicety. "Loud night, eh?" "Is that your wheelie bin?" "Yes." "It was right up the street this morning. Kids had been playing with it." "I'll shift it". "Good. And yes, it is loud. It'll be going on all night." I got in and decided that, as it was annoying him, I'd leave the bin out for a second night just to rub salt in the neighbour's self-inflicted meddling wounds. When I went out this morning it was half way up the street and laid on its side. I'm now thinking that the neighbour did it to teach me a lesson. He's a cunning man. Wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't the one firing off roman candles right outside our house until the early hours too.

Viewing: Curb Your Enthusiasm, Series One. Listening: Joseph Arthur - Our Shadows Will Remain

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