This is the week I developed an obsession with rubbish.
Every item I deposit in my bins at home brings me a little angst.
When, at the weekend, my husband innocently began to clear out a cupboard, he was sharply halted by me hollering: “This is not the time to do that!”
That’s because, for the last six days, everything we dispose of has had no place to go.
Instead, it piles up in bags at the side of the house. When they’ll finally be lifted, we don’t know.
Worse, when I step out onto the street, the communal waste bin just outside our door sits overflowing with junk.
The very presence of this bin, though way past being of any service, apparently entitles folks to pile their rubbish on top, or just drop it at the side – as if this is somehow still the right point to shed their waste. It ceased being the right point to do that several days ago.
So, we put out bin bags for passers-by to use instead, and now they sit bulging and stacking up, too. When they’ll finally be lifted, we don’t know.
Edinburgh on day five of the bin strike.
Someone handing out flyers on the Grassmarket just pitched their show with: “Get out of the rubbish, come and see a comedy show” pic.twitter.com/u2AUyZpkrn
— Alistair Grant (@alistairkgrant) August 22, 2022
Walk down towards the local shops, and the reminders of our current state of chaos in the capital are ever-present. Empty sandwich packs, drinks bottles, crisp packets and dog poo bags lie scattered along the pavements and on the roads.
Your heart sinks. Locals shake their heads at the sight.
When the streets will finally be cleared, we don’t know.
Then, the real heartbreak – when you drive into the city centre and are met by the spectacle of litter strewn all over the streets, with piles upon piles of ripped waste bags and ugly, spilling mess all precariously balanced or toppled around overflowing rubbish bins.
12-day strike feels endless
The 12-day strike in Edinburgh officially ends on August 30, but how long it will take to clear this ever-growing mess, we don’t know.
For those, like me, who thrive on order and organisation, something like this is triggering, to say the least.
I scan the news, hoping for a breakthrough in the talks between Cosla and Unite union reps that will bring this pay dispute to an end
I find myself sliding into thoughts of litter Armageddon, where the rubbish takes over the city, the smell lying thick in the air around us. I imagine the bin lorries swinging back into action on the first day after the strike, but being barely able to scratch the surface of the mess that has already piled up around us.
I have to claw my thoughts away from this scenario.
Others are more relaxed. They sigh and recognise this will pass. I wish I was more like them.
Instead, I scan the news, hoping for a breakthrough in the talks between Cosla and Unite union reps that will bring this pay dispute to an end.
We take normality for granted
A little like those pandemic days when even everyday essentials like bread and loo roll could be hard to come by in supermarkets, the strike reminds us of just how much we take normality for granted.
You crave those heady days of easy living, when everything you needed was readily available and easily disposed of. When you didn’t have to think twice about switching a light on, or the tumble dryer, or how many times you heat the kettle up in a day.
We can all sympathise with workers. Most of us share their fears
Unions are warning this could be the winter of discontent as workers strike over current pay that isn’t going to be sufficient enough to cover the rising cost of living. We can all sympathise. Most of us share their fears.
But, to avoid getting overwhelmed by the thought of ongoing chaos, I look again to those more optimistic folks – the ones who’ll glance at the overflowing bins and say: “It’s not forever.”
And, when I finally hear the roar of the bin lorry as it makes its way along our street again, there will be relief – and appreciation.
Clare Johnston is a journalist and strategic development partner for DC Thomson
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