Mr. Waffle was putting out our bins this evening and he ran into our next door neighbour putting out their bins. Her husband travels a lot for work but she said that no matter where he is or in what time zone, he always texts her to let her know which bin* to put out when.
Unrelated: it was lashing here this evening but Daniel still spent an hour out at GAA training getting damp and filthy. The Gaelic Athletic Association is not for the faint hearted. Also this evening, Michael got his first scout badge; great rejoicing.
*Green for recycling; black for general and brown for organic (only Mr. Waffle and Mr. Next Door can remember which bin goes out on which night).
Is Mr W the only one who can remember because he’s the only one who ever does it?
Unrelated: how are things in Brussels?
Well, I’ve been in a perishing Berlin (only for work, sadly) through most of it so I’m not entirely sure. But I can already tell you (and no surprise here): badly communicated.
We have a similar arrangement for the bins, with me in Mr W’s role. Have come back from Berlin to find them dealt with, but not optimally, in my absence.
All you bin experts are the same. How can the bins be dealt with “not optimally”? To be fair, I suppose in Belgium the commune might arrest you for any errors so maybe greater rigour is needed.
International media have been pleased by the cat business.
The city bin company (or whatever it’s called) texts me every week to remind me what bin to put out. It’s a very useful service.
Try putting the bins out a few times and you might find out!
Alas, MT, we operate on a street where the only operator is Greyhound. City bin sound terrific.
Praxis, I have, at least once.