An uplifting conversation that turns out to be rubbish.

I owe my neighbours an apology for the mess that’s cluttering up our road.

If you pass, you’ll notice that there’s a big heap of unsightly rubbish outside our house. Mattresses lying there naked and flabby, plus the scrap metal that once held them aloft.

There’s a reason for it, we aren’t embarking on a one-family campaign to lower the tone. (We’ve been here a while, we’d struggle to take it lower.)

Boy Two recently upgraded to a bed more suited to his advanced years (11 going on 25) and it was time to retire the old one.

I’ll ring the council I thought, the website says £19.40 for up to 10 things – extra for ‘white’ goods. Nothing coming out of this house is ever white.

“Is the stuff on the pavement already?” she asked.

“Er no. It’s in the house. I want to know when someone’s coming for it before I put it out.”

“I can’t book the uplift unless it’s there already.”

“Yes. But you won’t be able to get someone round within the next ten minutes, will you?”

“It’s just the policy. If they come round and your things aren’t there to be uplifted, there won’t be a refund.”

“OK. I’ll take the risk. Now, it says the fee is for up to 10 items, can I put some more things out if I have a clearout before you come for the bed?”

“No, it’s a fee for each booking. So if you add another thing, you’ll need to make another booking and that’s £19.40. So you’d better sort out everything before you make a booking.”

“It’s OK. I’ll just make the booking. Do you know when someone will come for the stuff?”

“Some time within the next 10 days.”

“Oh. So I have to have two mattresses and the rest of the bed lying in the street until the middle of next week?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

Uplifting. Not.

By Edgar Crook via Flickr