Tag Archives: clothes

A Simple Sunday

The story of my Sunday would, if told, merely be a repeat of the old lamentation about a married man’s time not being his own, You’ve heard it before, so consider yourself told.

The added twist today was that we needed a clothing recycling bin.The situation over much of the UK is, I believe, that there is no room in the existing bins, and many bags of clothes have been left next to the bins to gather rain and look a mess.

Our bin of choice used to be the one for Police Aid Convoys at TESCO. This was because we found TESCO easy rather than because we have any desire to clothe the children of the Balkans or obey the instructions the police plaster on their bins. Some people just like giving orders.

They removed the bins about a year ago. I am not sure why.

Our other bin of choice was the Salvation Army Bin at Hall Street Car Park. That isn’t there any more as it had become a mess with the amount of stuff being thrown near the bins. There is a tendency amongst some people to think that if a bin is there to take old clothes you can also throw old cardboard, glass and builders’ rubble there too.

So we tried the one outside the local undertaker. Not the ideal spot, if you think about it sensitively, but we thought it was worth a shot. It wasn’t. The bin was full.

That left us with Plan B – head for Bread and Lard Island, the epicentre of mindfulness and associated gubbins in Nottingham.

So, off we went. I’d passed the bins at ASDA on Tuesday when looking for a key cutter. They had seemed pretty clear, with nothing thrown on the floor, so there was a chance that there would be some space.

There wasn’t.

There was no mess on the floor but each of the four bins were full to the brim. I was beginning to think that you can see why so much clothing is thrown away in landfill every year.

garbage lot

Photo by Alex Fu on Pexels.com

Our main recycling day is Sunday, when we are both off, and of course, most charity shops are shut on Sundays. The bins are important, but they are often rammed full and we have been known to return home with our recycling to try another day.

I would like to point out that I am aghast at the waste of clothes and the fact that people only wear them for an average of 2.2 years. I wear mine until I grow out of them (which is another story) or until they wear out. I have a number of clothes, as I noted when going through them, that have lasted considerably longer than that. Some of my underwear goes back to before the kids were born. It’s a bit threadbare now but I’m not going to be showing it to anyone but Julia (and possibly A&E staff) why do I need smart boxers? Same goes for shirts – my favourites tend to get worn a lot and after about seven years they fall apart. I don’t mind worn collars but when the bottoms of the pockets wear out or the fronts wear until they are see-through you need to get rid. My everyday trousers are currently all about four years old – I know because I changed styles a few years ago when Cotton Traders started to skimp on sizes.

Anyway, we finally ended up in a car park with four clothing bins – two for Police Aid Convoys and two for Scope. I like Scope because they often have people with disabilities working in the charity shops – putting their money where their mouth is. Our local Mencap shop, in contrast, is quite unwelcoming. We do take our stuff there from loyalty to Julia’s work, but they are always very sniffy. I’m not sure our junk meets the high standards of the shop manager.

Two of the bins actually had room in them, though I managed to jam one of them with my first bag. The last remaining bin did take the rest of the bags, though I had to keep putting my arm in and moving bags – the bins are not well designed.

So in the end, all was well, though the recyclers really need to up their game if they want my help.

The next farce will involve books. I have to get rid of several hundred but the woman at the Oxfam bookshop on Tuesday was refusing to accept donations.

 

 

 

 

blur book stack books bookshelves

Photo by Janko Ferlic on Pexels.com

Clutter, Clothes and Cookery Books

In line with my new policy of decluttering I started by bagging up three bags of old clothes this morning. I then moved on to bag up several dozen books, including a large number of cookery books. To be honest, I get most of my recipes from the internet these days and don’t need the boxes of books.

I didn’t see my book on decluttering but I’ve promised Julia that when I find it it will be going straight in the bag. You don’t need books to declutter, you need bin bags and determination. I am no longer hanging on to stuff for a mythical future car boot sale or because it may come in useful.

We have been taking stuff to our local Mencap shop. I would like to say that this is because we’re supporting Julia’s work but it’s really because you can park outside the front door. If Satan ran a charity shop I’d probably drop stuff off there if the parking was easy.

I am a lazy man of low morals. And, if you believe Julia’s comments on my discarded clothing, poor fashion sense.

When I got downstairs Julia sent me back up to change. The fact that I’d found a thermal vest (or undershirt if you prefer), a Hawaiian shirt and an orange fleece waistcoat whilst sorting clothes is, it seems, not sufficient reason to wear all three at the same time.

This is news to me as it’s how I normally select my clothes. It’s just that most of my clothes are dark and nondescript so the problem of mis-matching doesn’t normally occur.

I’m assuming that she meant the clothes…

Anyway, that sums up the day. I’m now watching The Apprentice and eating the Jellyatrics that Julia was given for her birthday.

 

 

 

A Start to Decluttering

No, not the books!

 

I decided it was time to get rid of some clothes.

There were three shirts that don’t fit. I’d been hanging onto them for years, meaning to get on with the diet. There was also one that, with hindsight, had been an error of judgement. Beige with alternating shiny and matt stripes. I’m not yet ready for two-tone beige.

Two pairs  of trousers. See diet comments above.

Finally I shoved some ten-year-old vests in a bag marked “For Rags”. They are still quite wearable, but as I find myself exposing my underwear to hospital staff more regularly I’ve decided to upgrade.

It was a toss up between that or  cutting them up and composting them (they are 100% cotton so would compost down nicely) but laziness won.

In case you are wondering – yes. Cotton underwear, wool socks and leather/cotton gardening gloves have all gone through my compost bins, never to be seen again.

The theory is that by getting rid of clutter I’m going to have a better life.

 

The picture shows Julia doing the complicated bit at the clothing bank while I  sit in the car. You probably guessed that from the wing mirror.