Flytipping


The ‘flash of yellow flying’ in the garden Jackie saw this morning turned out to be a greenfinch.  No-one uses this small communal garden in Morden to which we don’t have access, and which is no more than a patch of grass and ground elder occasionally strimmed by the owners’ staff.  It abuts an overgrown railway embankment on one side and a blocked off path on the other.  Small ash trees and brambles grow in abundance on the embankment.  To the side of the flats is a railway bridge.  Walking under the bridge and turning left brings you onto the path up to London Road alongside which is the disused schools sports ground.  All this is why we think we have such a variety of birds and the foxes.

Unpacking the presents I was given on Saturday, I was reminded of Matthew’s performance towards the end of the party (posted yesterday).  He had given me a CD of Adam Faith’s songs, and gave us a perfect rendering of ‘What do you want?’.  Of course, only the older people present recognised it, but this they certainly did.  He explained that he had never heard the singer, but had learned it from listening to his Dad.  But then I think every man of my generation can do it.

On leaving the flat this morning the drumming I heard was caused by a plastic Lucozade bottle bowling along the road.  This was definitely a raincoat day (see 21st. June’s post).  Walking under the railway bridge it was clear that the resident pigeons were doing their best to undo the work of a team of men who had spent a day last week clearing up their droppings.  An emergency vehicle’s siren wailed in the distance.  I would need a four year old to identify the service involved.  Except for rooks cawing in Morden Park the birds were silent.  The only other sound which penetrated the whistling of the wind I was leaning into was the rustling of the leaves in its wake, and, further into the park, the clattering of cars on the metal tracking on the approach to the temporary overflow carpark for Wimbledon tennis.  I wished the wouldbe spectators luck.

Not many people braved the park this morning.  Two Asian boys were walking an American bulldog.  I was quite pleased it was on a lead and not free to frolic with me.  A jogger was leading another wolf-like dog which seemed to have trouble keeping up with her.  But then, if you take a dog for a run, by the time it has double tracked and sniffed at everything, it probably does five miles to your one.

Almost hidden in the undergrowth, like a fallen stone in a deserted graveyard, beside a barely passable track was an old ILEA (Inner London Education Authority) notice.  This was the education arm of the GLC (see post of 29th. June).

On my return I took the overgrown passage (see post of 26th. June) between the park and Hillcroft Avenue, hoping that the fallen branch which had caused me such trepidation last time had been removed.  No such luck.  And even when younger I was no limbo dancer.

The wider opening to the path to London Road mentioned earlier is used as an unofficial car park, commonly used by visitors to the mosque (see 18th. May post).  It is also used as a dumping ground for all sorts of rubbish.  The picture which begins this piece is what it looked like as I began my walk.  A cyclist speeding out of the derelict sports ground to the left of the area photographed almost cannoned into the pile of old broken furniture.  ‘Bastard!’, he cried, ‘Should go to jail for that.’  On my return this had all been cleared.  Full marks to the Council. Flytipping warning This flytipping warning is further over on the park proper.  The penalties threatened would not have satisfied the cyclist.

Briefly going shopping this afternoon, I risked leaving my raincoat behind.  I got wet.

A couple of glasses of Campo Viejo riocha 2010, accompanying one of my sausage casseroles retrieved from the freezer, set the evening up nicely.  Jackie had her customary Hoegaarden.


4 responses to “Flytipping”

  1. […] For several days now, Jackie’s passage along Upper Drive has been impeded by heaps of garden refuse.  I rather hoped that someone else would move it.  Alas, in this I was disappointed, so I tackled it on my return from sending off the cards.  Someone had driven a heavy enough truck to have gouged the grass and tipped its contents mostly onto the tarmac.  I had intended to kick all the rubbish into touch, but the branches of trees, the cuttings from aged rose stems, the massy holly and ivy, were so enmeshed that this was not possible.  I had to use my hands to extract from the piles and throw into the forest greenery that tended to be rather prickly.  It will no doubt, in its own good time, merge with its surroundings.  On the other hand, if we have another severe winter, the animals will see to it.  The last dump of detritus on this spot was more builder’s junk, and was removed by the Council services within a couple of days.  The New Forest is, we have discovered, not immune from flytipping. […]

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