The bins in my block go into a downstairs room. To bring the bags up, you have to use some stairs. They are secure there.
If the bags go on the street, they get attacked by clever crows.
Nobody has taken the bin bags out for the last few weeks because one of the bin men filled in a form saying we had vermin. They were using the crow chewed bags to pretend they thought it was rats. If you say “vermin” you can avoid doing a job you don’t want to do. It’s a common strategy in this city.
We got all the bags on the street this morning and then I spent hours on the phone to the council and ended up paying £30 to have someone come and inspect our bin room on Wednesday. I’ll have to be there early in the morning and I’ll have to make sure the place is totally empty. The caretaker is on holiday and this sort of thing either gets done by him or me or nobody. It’s Chelsea. ’twas ever thus. Most people don’t actually know what “work” means, even if they’re earning plenty.
I waited until ten past twelve when they finally showed up with their van. I stood there making sure they took the lot. It was breeding flies like crazy.
I’m glad I got it all done as it kept me occupied. Things I’m not very happy thinking about.
Then a guy came from our internet service provider and actually fixed the WiFi rather than moaning about the cats. I had to chase them down as well. Nothing gets done in this city if you don’t prod.
Then I went to Tesco and cooked and ate an entire chicken. Bite me.
Now I’m going to a Factory zoom session.
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Here we all are on zoom. Zoomyzoomyzoom. Meeting meeting meeting. I still hate these but they are functional.
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That was rather pleasant to be honest. Old friends and new, geeky lovely inspired people collaborating. Fun when I’m sad.
AlBarclay 