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The backyard seems that much more spacious today than it has ever been. Today also nearly marked the disappearance of the 17 year old Philips television that partially imploded sometime ago. Placed among the amassing mound of junk that spotlights the expanse of the cemented region of the house it has started to emulate the odour of a dead cat, possibly a rodent. For now at least, it still holds the composition that distinctly denotes it to be a television.
Every week, on and off, there would be some new piece of crap calling the backyard its new home. Usually this mysterious and viciously sighted monstrosity would appear after a night of bumps and clangs. The frequency has effectively lead to something akin to "industrial deafness" where the constant exposure to a certain audible range or source has been blocked out. If a robbery were to take place, I don't think I could pick it.
If you had some large rubbish item that needed removal, all you need to was place it outside your property, ring the council and they'd whisk it away. Trouble is, hardly anyone actually rang the council, they had no problem with placing it there. Bit by bit the decrepit lawn ornaments would be parted. I'm certain that that is the source of dangerous items jutting all over the backyard. Knowing this, the council altered the takeaway to happen only three times a year.
According to the council leaflet each household is allotted three lots of cubic metres of junk to dispose of. A garden waste lot, a whitegoods lot and an "other" pile. Our lawn had the "other" group take up the place of the other lots. When that truck came, boy, was it fun to watch. The clamp barely had a grasp of the rusted barrel and acoustic cabinet as the teeth crunched and shards of glass and metal fell orphaned. Then, when it lifted another television set sourced from the backyard, the arm swayed almost dropping it into the garden waste compartment of the truck. It was all over in two minutes.
Tuesday, 26 June 2001 - 07:49
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