Cookham Dog Walkers Litter Picking
You would be surprised at the amount of health and safety
instructions that are apparently required to execute a litter pick. Two pages worth to be precise – how to bend, what not to pick up, safe
and effective use of a pair of latex gloves.
Now don’t get me wrong – the Cookham Dog Walkers were very
grateful for the RBWM Adopt a Street scheme’s support,
but we decided to gloss over fully briefing everything in, just in the
interests of starting before a week next Tuesday. The litter picking kit itself was nothing short
of a triumph: four pairs of gloves, four florescent tabards, three and a half
thousand black plastic sacks as thin as the increasingly thin, Thin Blue Line that polices Winter Hill. The piece-de-resistance though was the sticky picky
litter picking up stick things (over which there was a bit of a bun fight because we did not have quite enough to go around).
Splitting into two teams allowed us to tackle the footpath down to
Cockmarsh, the National Trust car park and the road along the top. We found exactly what we expected to find – the relatively harmless but deeply annoying Kentucky
Fried Chicken packaging and Lucozade bottles etc. were everywhere.
And at the risk of sounding like my Mother - who incidentally was there, wielding a sticky picky thing and leaving no Costa coffee cup un-turned - these
people must literally just open the car door and push everything out. Or drive along and chuck it straight out the
window. How do people think that is "acceptable behaviour"?
Anyway - there were a few surprises, at least for some. You try explaining
to an 85 year old with short term memory issues that the many, many tiny little plastic bags
we collected were for drugs. "Oh yes, I see it Mum - I think its for drugs". "Oh another one Mum - well done! It's because they put drugs in them". "The little plastic bag you've just picked up? Yes, its still for drugs Mum". And "actually no Mum, I can't tell you how one would go about organising a deal, or how much a packet would cost or indeed why they choose Winter Hill when you can't get there on the bus. Perhaps they do take a taxi, yes".
The half bottle of Martel cognac was a genuine
shock – our countryside obviously draws
a classier sort of drunk, although considering it’s 40%
proof and the lack of public transport, the thought of that same person driving home is
deeply uncomfortable. There was one final surprise when we came across a washing machine. Hotpoint in case you were wondering. We rolled it back up the steep incline, which was no mean feat let me tell you, and
left it there for Ranger Owen to collect – because he
has nothing better to do than pick up fly tip.
If I am being completely honest I did not expect to enjoy myself. I went because
I’m slightly OCD and the endless
rubbish drives me insane BUT we all agreed, that the morning was really, really
satisfying and good fun! We looked back at our handiwork, and across at our three big bags of rubbish, and felt a genuine sense of
achievement. Special thanks go to CDWers
Peter Borcherds and Paul, Abigail and Sophia Harding with Bo and of course, my
Mother.
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