Happy New Year and welcome to the first blog post on Magic of Stories. I was wondering what it would be, then found myself musing one morning.
The dustbin men came round the other morning about 8.30 am, and it made me remember what it used to once be like.
In Anglesey, where I now live, we have several wagons that come throughout the day as opposed to just the one. The black bin is our general rubbish, the green is garden waste. We also have small brown food waste with a lid and a three tubs stacked on top of each other on wheels and this takes our other recyclable items.
When I lived in Manchester, we had one big wagon that took our two bins. The green garden waste also took food stuff too.
The reason this came back to me is because I used to dread bin day. Now it’s a minor inconvenience particularly when I remember at 10 pm the previous evening!
In the city, the wagon would arrive at 5 am. I’d be woken up with a distant banging sound that got nearer and nearer, louder and louder. For someone who is noise sensitive, this was a nightmare. And by the time it reached my house, the noise was almost unbearable, and then it moved away. It was worse when the jovial binmen whistled or talked loudly as they worked.
It was never too bad in the summer as I would get up and begin my day. In the winter it felt like it was in the middle of the night!
What disturbs your sleep?