A day at the dump

A moment’s lapse in concentration gives Penny Tompkins the chance to enjoy the musings of a philosophical waste disposal operative

I think it must be the stifling weather this summer – but I leave you to draw your own conclusions!

I’ve been taking stuff to the local public dump over the past few weeks as we slowly clear out our two old sheds before demolishing them. All was going swimmingly until I chucked a dead broom into one of the monster skips along with the car keys… just like that!

‘That’ll be the third set today, madam. Must be something to do with the hot weather. Flying keys is one of the highlights of the job,’ observed the orange-clad attendant as he climbed the steps and, peering over the top of the 10ft skip filled with everything including the kitchen sink, cautiously prodded the contents with his grabbing stick.

‘Problem with keys is that they’re very good at going straight to the bottom. Not like your broom sticking up over there.’

My car sat gleaming cheerfully in the summer sunshine with my handbag, phone and AA details safely locked inside.

‘You can use our phone if you like. Nice car.’

I looked sorrowful. ‘My husband won’t be very pleased.’

‘I expect not. They rarely are.’ Such an understanding man.

‘You can then wait in the shade over there,’ he said, pointing to a battered wooden chair standing next to a pile of old newspapers and a little garden complete with bunches of fake white flowers. ‘We keep them for visitors.’

My husband, Roger, finally arrived, spare key in hand and, you’ve guessed it: he was not pleased.

I later explained to the garage what had happened. I could sense incipient laughter as I said we’d need a new spare key.

‘That’ll be a whole new set then,’ the man said and suggested I sat down. ‘Two hundred and fifty pounds – but that does include VAT.’

Ah! The rich tapestry of life…