- Joined
- Aug 10, 2016
- Location
- Lancashire, UK
I just wanted to share this with you all in the hope that just one person (or more) may look for a chance to ‘make a small difference in their community this week.
I originally wrote it for my local community litter picking group in which one or two members seem to have lost perspective. Comparing litter picking bag sizes, ranting on cig butts etc.
“A Father’s Day breakfast in town for the kids with their Dad.
That’s how I started the day.
Yet, across the road, in a doorway, my eyes were drawn to a large pile of unsightly rubbish.
Looking closer I saw the doorway was indeed littered. A couple of large pieces of card. A sleeping bag and another blanket. What an unsightly mess. Surely, there wasn’t someone still asleep in the mound.
Probably not, no signs of a head or stray arm popping out. No rucksack or bag.
An hour later we left, full and excited about the day of making that lay ahead.
Yet the litter has moved....changed form somehow. But it couldn’t be a person. Not with the current hustle and bustle. Surely the begging cup would be out if so.
By mid afternoon we were exhausted and traipsed back to the car. The rubbish in the doorway remained, but sat amongst it was a face. A fairly young face, yet worn and weary.
“Can we give that man some money please mummy?” Chirps up the voice of my little angel. She is a 9 year old pain, spoit and demanding but with a heart of gold.
“Sorry, we’ve spent every last penny today my darling.”
There was Nothing I could do.
I sat silently all the way home, wondering how to get such ‘rubbish’ shifted from where it doesn’t belong. Where had it come from? what was it’s story?
Sadly, I have no litter picking bag tally to add for today. Sorry to my friends at Keep Blackburn tidy... In fact I am probably guilty of creating more rubbish.
You see, I went home and up-cycled some items. My purse is empty, so I couldn’t ‘buy’ a solution.
It didn’t take long.
Things like these:
Clothes bought for the hubby that never fit, yet not returned to the shop.
Food that had sat in the freezer untouched.
A towel that’s not posh enough for my bathroom.
The biscuits that the kids refused to eat. An old piece of tarpaulin.
The novelty socks that remained unworn. The change from the ashtray in the car (just over £1. Enough for a warm drink)
Half a dozen eggs, which I freshly boiled.
So, Instead of visiting my dad’s grave this evening I did something in his memory ...... And it didn’t cost a thing.
My dad believed in the 10 American Indian commandments.
He often told me to never take more from this earth than I could give back. So off I went.
I couldn’t afford the parking so quickly pulled up and jumped out.
His eyes were so sad, filled with a million worries. His face so gaunt.
Each scar on the young mans arms told of difficult times where it must have been hard to cope....and there were many many scars.
It was like watching my small children at Christmas when he looked in his bag. He tore ravenously into a chicken Balti that I had microwaved before setting off, tearing at the burger bun to dip in (a simple left over from midweek).
He was soon distracted by the chocolate biscuit and the extra blanket.
He eagerly waved goodbye as I drove off.
How guilty and spoilt I felt in my shiny new car.
Perhaps I was lucky to have had a wonderful dad (and mum) to guide me. Perhaps he hadn’t had that. Perhaps someone hadn’t given him a chance or hadn’t forgiven him. Who knows....
Perhaps there is some sort of solution for the massive litter problem in the doorways .
But for today I failed in my mission to keep Blackburn tidy.
I originally wrote it for my local community litter picking group in which one or two members seem to have lost perspective. Comparing litter picking bag sizes, ranting on cig butts etc.
“A Father’s Day breakfast in town for the kids with their Dad.
That’s how I started the day.
Yet, across the road, in a doorway, my eyes were drawn to a large pile of unsightly rubbish.
Looking closer I saw the doorway was indeed littered. A couple of large pieces of card. A sleeping bag and another blanket. What an unsightly mess. Surely, there wasn’t someone still asleep in the mound.
Probably not, no signs of a head or stray arm popping out. No rucksack or bag.
An hour later we left, full and excited about the day of making that lay ahead.
Yet the litter has moved....changed form somehow. But it couldn’t be a person. Not with the current hustle and bustle. Surely the begging cup would be out if so.
By mid afternoon we were exhausted and traipsed back to the car. The rubbish in the doorway remained, but sat amongst it was a face. A fairly young face, yet worn and weary.
“Can we give that man some money please mummy?” Chirps up the voice of my little angel. She is a 9 year old pain, spoit and demanding but with a heart of gold.
“Sorry, we’ve spent every last penny today my darling.”
There was Nothing I could do.
I sat silently all the way home, wondering how to get such ‘rubbish’ shifted from where it doesn’t belong. Where had it come from? what was it’s story?
Sadly, I have no litter picking bag tally to add for today. Sorry to my friends at Keep Blackburn tidy... In fact I am probably guilty of creating more rubbish.
You see, I went home and up-cycled some items. My purse is empty, so I couldn’t ‘buy’ a solution.
It didn’t take long.
Things like these:
Clothes bought for the hubby that never fit, yet not returned to the shop.
Food that had sat in the freezer untouched.
A towel that’s not posh enough for my bathroom.
The biscuits that the kids refused to eat. An old piece of tarpaulin.
The novelty socks that remained unworn. The change from the ashtray in the car (just over £1. Enough for a warm drink)
Half a dozen eggs, which I freshly boiled.
So, Instead of visiting my dad’s grave this evening I did something in his memory ...... And it didn’t cost a thing.
My dad believed in the 10 American Indian commandments.
He often told me to never take more from this earth than I could give back. So off I went.
I couldn’t afford the parking so quickly pulled up and jumped out.
His eyes were so sad, filled with a million worries. His face so gaunt.
Each scar on the young mans arms told of difficult times where it must have been hard to cope....and there were many many scars.
It was like watching my small children at Christmas when he looked in his bag. He tore ravenously into a chicken Balti that I had microwaved before setting off, tearing at the burger bun to dip in (a simple left over from midweek).
He was soon distracted by the chocolate biscuit and the extra blanket.
He eagerly waved goodbye as I drove off.
How guilty and spoilt I felt in my shiny new car.
Perhaps I was lucky to have had a wonderful dad (and mum) to guide me. Perhaps he hadn’t had that. Perhaps someone hadn’t given him a chance or hadn’t forgiven him. Who knows....
Perhaps there is some sort of solution for the massive litter problem in the doorways .
But for today I failed in my mission to keep Blackburn tidy.
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