It's all very complicated...

I expect you've all been having to do this forever but here in West Devon we like to bide a while and see if a thing is going to catch on before we embrace it, so we've been a little behindtimes with our recycling efforts. Until now just a single box and it seemed that you couldn't put much in it at all, and if you did the lid blew off and it all ended up strewn across the Tamar Valley.
And if you put glass in it, the box emptiers (who drive past at about 60mph... we haven't been out for a walk at midday on a Wednesday for years now) would casually sling it all around the lane leaving a trail of puncture material in their wake, so we never bothered.
But now we're going to have to bother because the times they are a-changing and this week West Devon has gone large on the recycling thing.
Week One = Refuse Week recycling food waste and refuse.
This will alternate with Week Two = Garden Waste Week more food waste and garden detritus too, branches up to the thickness of your wrist, vase flowers that sort of thing.
We usually recycle food waste through the dogs who love the leftovers from a good roast dinner but now feel obliged to donate it to the council who will turn it into compost for local farmers and electricity for the National Grid, and it's all necessitated the arrival of more boxes and bags and caddies and bigger caddies and a roll of biodegradable bin liners for the food bin to get us started.
We don't have our own compost heap because it would rapidly become a seething-mass-of-rats heap and if there's one thing I can't abide it's wandering out to the washing line and passing a seething mass of rats.
But I can see all this is essential, we can't keep on dumping all this stuff for ever, but it's all going to be very time-consuming until it becomes a habit, much dashing to the leaflet to see if it includes aerosol cans...yes, batteries...yes, teabags...yes, building rubble...no, curtains...yes, spectacles...yes, yoghourt pots...no, mobile phones...yes.... and so on and on.
Already there's a big pile gathering daily in the kitchen that no one knows where to put or I'm walking to the box every two minutes holding a rinsed cat food tin, or a cereal box.
The cans will go to Llanelli to be made into cars, probably Ferraris or something posh.
The newspapers to Kent.
The plastic bottles will be made into street furniture.
Textiles will go to Birmingham and thence to developing nations.
Watch out Nottingham because you're getting our glass, and stand by Somerset, our thick card is on its way.
Thus far much debate about what constitutes thick card over slightly less thick card, one goes in the bag the other in the box.
We're fortunate to have the space in which to keep all these boxes and caddies and bags, in fact with his new-found building expertise watch Bookhound build us our own fox, rat, badger and weather-proof recycling storage depot any day now, and nor will they be too much of a problem out at the gate for collection unless we are in the teeth of a south westerly gale, but spare a thought for Tinker Towers.
Eleven residents in cosy little apartments in the centre of town who have to get their boxes, caddies and bags out on the pavement by 7.30 am, so sensibly the night before and waiting for all the inebriates to emerge from the bars and pubs looking for something to chuck up in or to use for a game of football up the main street.
The woman from the council expressed genuine surprise and amazement when the Tinker revealed this possibility to her.
To say nothing of the impassability status of a little market town with its narrow pavements and propensity for strong south-westerly gales, can you imagine it, a recipe for lid and box chaos bouncing along the road if ever there was one.
So Week One has happened and we awaited the arrival of whatever was going to collect our efforts with interest because we'd also heard that our lane was too narrow for the main lorry to access, so we were under 'special arrangements', as must be a goodly part of West Devon given that this is narrow-lane-land. When the men did finally arrive, it was five hours later than usual and on their knees because it seems that we are not the only ones taking this seriously, so a massive amount of sorting for them.
Anyway we are embracing this new venture with a glad and willing heart though we might sneak a bonfire occasionally, winter just wouldn't be winter without the cry of 'Anything for the bonnie?'