LETS TALK RUBBISH

It must be full moon.

At least I hope so. That would in some small part explain why I have had such an unusually trying day. I have even had to bring out the disgruntled tot again  to express visually how I feel.

It is a question of rubbish disposal, or rather the lack of it. Two weeks ago I felt in a positive frame of mind and believed in the FUTURE. I therefore decided to call a rubbish disposal meeting. Seasoned readers of this journal know that this is not the first time. I now actually believed that it was to be the last time however, and I said as much to the assembled staff. I also made an important new appointment : Ace was given the title of Directeur de Poubelles. (Director of Rubbish Bins).

I then went through the well-worn instructions : THIS is the hole in the ground where the broken things go ; all the bottles, lightbulbs, batteries, aluminium cans etc ; all the indestructable stuff. This will eventually be covered up with earth. THIS is the hole where everything goes that will rot. That includes the horse and donkey kaka. At the end of the day you take a scoop of earth and cover it. Eventually it will go on the garden. THIS is the oil drum where everything else is burnt- paper, plastic bags, whatever. IS THIS UNDERSTOOD ? Yes, of course it was understood. But tonight as I went on my evening ride I dared to glance at the rubbish disposal area behind the hotel. Big Mistake.  There lay, scattered on the ground in no distinguishable order, and nowhere near the designated areas the following : A broken bamboo chair, an old wine carton and three coke cans as well as a smattering of old of plastic bags and scraps of paper !

I got off my horse . I  howled. I called another general meeting  and telephoned the Directeur de Poubelles to arrive immediately. Some ladies of the neighbourhood who were walking past stopped and watched my tantrum. ‘Yes???? And what do YOU want !’  I screamed at them. The ladies giggled and left.

I don’t know if I want to stay here any more.