Once upon a time…
Going round the waste baskets yesterday in order to to put out the rubbish, I was struck again by the difference in practice a lifetime has seen. When I was a child, the milk came in glass bottles, rinse and return, rare bottles of juice – ditto for a small payment. Am I old enough to remember jam jars being in that category? Not sure. Biscuits were sold from huge glass topped containers into brown paper bags. The bags were then re-used ro wrap around the cake tin and prevent the cake inside burning.
Newspapers were an essential part of life. They provided the news, de facto, but they also screwed up to light the fire. We never had one as primitive as the one above, but my granny lived with us towards the end of her life. She always talked of cooking anything as ‘putting it on the fire’. I remember, too, visiting the home of a schoolfriend whose mum cooked on one like that above and baked in the side oven. Skillful or what?
Yesterday, I shopped for meat for two days and brought something in for an elderly neighbour. Oh how it jars to leave it on the doorstep and not have a wee chat.
Exercise in the afternoon was a shorter local walk. I met several folks I hadn’t seen for a while – why do I say that? I also checked out the local school where the playground has been re-invented and contains a hobbit-house.
In the evening, there was a beautiful glow around Edinburgh’s Arthur’s Seat and a rosy sky among the clouds.
I didn’t sleep all that well. I suppose we’re all suffering a bit from low grade anxiety. That was another meaning of Rubbish Night.
Flights are bringing home stranded UK tourists.
I wrote 1,000 words on the WIP. Hope I won’t need to delete when I re-read this morning.
Thanks to the binmen. We’ve started using the dalek for kitchen uncooked waste again as it’s a bit warmer. So one fewer bag in the food waste.