Yes; it’s a mere 7.25p per week for a single biodegradable (for which read, really rather permeable) bag, but it all adds up.
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We’ve never had to endure a leaky bag (Yuk!) I wonder where ELC find theirs?
Soo xx
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A belated
yardarm.
Please form an orderly (by Cellar standards, anyway) queueue. And wash yer brains out, some of yez.
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Nonsense, Twellsy: it looks nothing like a razor.
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I don’t check in for a couple of days and look what you lot get up to!
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It’s the mess, though , Fishy, & the smell.
We used to be able to use brown paper bags, or newspaper, but are no longer allowed to.
I used to buy brown paper bags with handles, as used by Takeaway Food Shops, & they worked really well.
Carinthia. xx
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As I understand it maggots have also been a hazard this past couple of months. So the watertight bags are definitely an improvement.
The trouble is that I can’t help a feeling that plastic is not all that compostable, and if the kitchen waste isn’t being composted what’s the point of keeping it separate?
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There exist better (I.e. more robust) biodegradable bags, but not in the consumer market, and they cost more. Or we could not use bags at all, just chuck stuff directly into the compostables bin, but that’s nastier for the dustmen. The shredders will rip up the plastic bags and I suspect that as a contaminant by weight they may do less harm than the antibiotic and pesticide residue.
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It seems that our council buys from these people:
When we need more bags, we tie the provided yellow label to the caddy on collection day.
Soo xx
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A lady has just walked past in fishnet stockings with crescent moons and stars. (And otherwise unremarkable clothing.)
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I think you’ll find it was just a woman, dere Bird. No lady wears fishnets in the daytime.
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Do women wear fishnets these days?
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Not I. They are really hard on the toes.
Once upon a time , though, I wore them over turquoise or shocking pink tights.
Stop shuddering at the back there! Ohhhh, it’s the pizza that’s bothering you. As you were.
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There have been Complaints. Some Cellarite has been seen circling the yardarms widdershins. And I don’t think I need to remind you what happened last time, do I? Any more than I need to explain why the
yardarm
is now behind a razor-wire-topped fence.
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[perkity up of long dormant¹ sparrerly instincts]
¹ honest guv
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Who stole my pet squeak win?
And leave my fishnet tights alone they are the wrong size for you wee birdie
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It wouldn’t be a real convention without a fire alarm.
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I once attended a convention at which the fire alarm went off during breakfast.
You could tell the old hands; while the neos hastily stood up and hurried down the stairs to get out of the building, the rest of us wearily picked up our plates full of cooked food and our mugs of coffee (and in some cases put their orange juice and the plate with toast and marmalade on a tray, as well) and went down to the car park assembly point in a leisurely manner chatting about fire alarms we had known and how there had yet to be an actual fire in any hotel we’d been to.
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