You know you’re of a certain age when you can appreciate a good ‘tip’.
The newish one in Waterlooville is a positively pleasant experience compared to its predecessor.
Instead of horse dung and potholes on country roads, we’ll now be dodging all sorts of rubbish strewn about the place
There’s plenty of space, it’s clean and there are none of those terrible steps you had to lug your bags up whilst trying not to spill the contents everywhere – only to be told you were at the wrong bin!
My trip to the new-look tip felt almost too good to be true – and now I know why.
You see, the tip experience is soon going to leave a sour taste in the mouth, not only in Waterlooville but at all 26 recycling centres in Hampshire.
The reason? Charges are to be brought in for residents taking materials not deemed household waste, such as soil and rubble.
In a bid to combat fly-tipping by tradesman, tips will accept commercial waste for a fee.
It sounds great in principle.
The country lanes will be full of wildflowers and unspoilt hedgerows again, instead of piles of rubble and old kitchen units.
This has been hailed as a breakthrough in the fight against fly-tipping.
But wait! Someone’s had the bright idea to start charging householders too.
Marvellous. Why not open up the country lanes to the masses?
Everyone form an orderly queue at the nearest layby.
Someone in a boardroom somewhere, in a nice suit and pointy shoes, has thought charging people for getting rid of their waste will help with fly-tipping.
Good job, give yourself a bonus.
Actually it will have the opposite effect. Instead of horse dung and potholes on country roads, we’ll now be dodging all sorts of rubbish strewn about the place.
And who is to decide what is household waste and what isn’t? The man with the nice suit and pointy shoes? The person in the hi-vis at the tip?
I can foresee plenty of arguments happening.
Anyway, I thought it had been decreed that householders couldn’t be charged for disposing of their waste.
Oh well, at least it’s reassuring to know we’re paying our council for a reason.
I’VE NOW BECOME MUCH MORE ACQUAINTED WITH THE HOOVER
It was International Women’s Day recently and this was certainly taken seriously in one Romanian household, where Marinela Benea reportedly tore off her husband’s left testicle after he refused to do the housework or buy her flowers.
In an interview, his wife said he was ‘a bit annoyed’. Really.
Apparently he insisted on calling an ambulance, but she thought some ice would suffice.
Yeah, that will do the trick. Just run it off, I’m sure you’ll be fine love.
Thinking about it, it was strange how I came across this story.
I’m sure the Mrs left the paper open for me to see it.
Strangely enough, I’ve now become much more acquainted with the Hoover and a duster...
ST PATRICK’S DAY? IT HAS TO BE THE WORST TIME TO BE IN A PUB
So it was St Patrick’s Day last week, when the streets are traditionally paved with idiots dressed like leprechauns in stupid wigs and those ridiculous foam hats.
I don’t get it.
The nearest most of those ‘celebrating’ have got to Irish roots is their last pint of Guinness.
They just like the idea of getting drunk for a reason.
It’s a shame that they can’t put the same energy into celebrating their own patron saint.
How many Irish people do you ever see stumbling about dressed like a knight of the realm on St George’s Day, or Scottish people riding about the place on fake dragons when it’s St David’s Day?
St Patrick’s Day? I honestly couldn’t think of a worst time to be in a pub.