Christmas Dustbins

The hideous results after one day's extravagance.

CHRISTMAS DUSTBINS

 

 “Merry Christmas! It’s fine for those who don’t have to stagger out of bed in this freezing weather, and pick up all their rubbish. Just take a look at it, will you?” Jake, the foreman of the dustbin-men was as usual complaining. The men in his group had all been educated and had university degrees, but due to the job shortage for those higher educated, they had been offered the job as dustbin-men. Of course, the worst thing was getting up in the dark to get everything out of the way before the householders were up and about. Though from where they were working, it looked as if the streets would be empty of people for most of the day. The sleet that had followed the heavy snowfalls for Christmas, had made it almost impossible for anyone to go out. The cars, unless they were wearing snow tyres, slid from one side of the road to the other. Never mind if people had no real reason to leave their comfy beds and houses - they didn’t. The rubbish wasn’t all inside the bins, but strewn all over the pavements. The smell of dog and cat urine was too hard on the men’s noses, and they cleared it all up as quickly as they could. The rubbish was, in the main, souvenirs of Christmas: the wrapping paper that someone had taken the trouble to buy and cover the present with, and then put on a decorative bow. The wrapping was sopping wet from the inclemency of the weather. There were some rather large gift boxes that had once held the dream of the receiver, and now the messy wet cardboard lay on the pavement. The Christmas trees that nobody was interested in, offered a tragic sight to the eyes of the men. The shiny coloured balls, the tinsel that was no longer shiny, and paper garlands that were also sopping wet. The disgusting sight had been, a short time before, a glittering spectacle for children and other members of the families, but now that the festivities were all over, except for New Year’s Eve parties, were no longer wanted. “Madam, get that dog out of here, it’s making a mess on the wet paper,” shouted Brian, who was one of Jake’s work-mates. The dog’s owner, an elderly lady, wrapped up in plastic against the wet weather, sniffed at the cheek of the dustbin-man and, picking up the offender, strode down the road to her house with her nose in the air. “She’d better be careful she doesn’t slip up on those slippery roads today,” Brian said to his cohorts.

As the morning drifted its weary way on, more dog-walkers appeared, and even some who were loaded down with packaging remains, so more paper and more cardboard was added to the mountain of wet rubbish. The bins were already overflowing with food leftovers. “Don’t they know there’s supposed to be a bin for each kind of rubbish,” Jake moaned to his mates. They did their best to leave the pavements clean and tidy, in spite of the terrible weather. Some of the houses still had decorations and the trees too, but those who had got fed up with all the glitter early, and those who had gone away to sunnier climes, had left everything out on the pavements.

 

The area the men started out on, had the appearance of a fly tip. It was obvious to anyone, that others probably not even from the district, had taken advantage of going away, to dump their rubbish in a different district. On the first day after the Christmas holiday, any sign of the festive spirit was lying in and around the rubbish bins.

Clearing up the decorations was one thing, but when it came to the food left-overs, that was entirely another story. At least the extremely cold weather prevented the rotting food from smelling too much. The sight of turkey remains being chewed over by stray dogs and cats was not a lovely thing to see. Apart from that, there were bits of Christmas pudding and brandy and butter lying on broken plates. All the pieces of half-eaten food were spread out all over the ground around the dustbins. The greasiness of the food was horribly evident in the slimy surface it produced, with gravy-smothered potatoes and vegetables. All in all, what had been the highlight of the year a few days before, was now nasty and rotting. There was nothing that resembled edible in any way, it all gave the idea of being toxic, and nothing healthy about any of it. The chocolate boxes came off badly too, and were smashed to bits. The Turkish delight didn’t fare well either, as the lovely soft jelly-like sweet, was splattered inside their wooden boxes. Had anyone partaken of any of the Christmas fare? There was so much stickiness and lumpiness, it was not just a job for the dustbin-men, but for the householders also to clear up the filth with a hosepipe and a hard broom. As the weather was not for going out in unless there was no other choice, some of the householders simply watched the men working at clearing up and freeing the front gardens of the filth and grime through their living-room windows. The ones who were inside, felt no remorse for leaving everything in such an appalling condition, and declared there was nowhere for them to put all their rubbish. Bits and pieces of half-eaten food, managed to find their way into other people’s gardens. The bus stops weren’t free of being smothered underfoot by bones and other particles of food. The passengers had to keep an eye on what they were treading on, as they stood waiting or were getting on their buses.

 

Shifting food and other detritus was a completely different thing from getting hold of the bins with glass and china. They were usually full of things to cut any unwary dustbin-man’s hand or finger. The men generally wore gloves that were extraordinarily thick, so as to prevent cuts from even the strongest glass. The bottle-bins were full of wine bottles, champagne bottles, and soft drinks bottles, and some were so heavy, they needed a fork-lift to empty them into the truck. There were always bottles left on the ground beside the container, which meant the bin-men had to work harder, having to bend down to pick them up one by one.

 

It wasn’t long after Christmas that another of Jake’s men, Terry, called out, “Hey, Jake. Come over here. There seems to be blood on this bottle.”

Jake walked over to where Terry was standing beside a glass container that was full of bottles. The bottle Terry was pointing out, once held champagne. Now, it was just another empty bottle on its way to the bottle bank to be recycled. “Where did you find it, and are you sure it’s blood, and not wine or some kind of sauce?”

“All right then, you take a look and let’s see what you make of it,” Terry said.

Jake picked up the bottle and stared at it and then smelled it, “I think we’d better call the police, we don’t want to be accused of hiding a crime.” So saying, he rang the local police and told them about the bottle and the blood. It wasn’t long before the sound of a police car was heard, and a young policeman got out, and his companion remained inside the vehicle. “Well, let’s take a look and see what all this is about,” the young policeman said.

Jake stepped forward and said, “Terry, my work-mate here, found this as he was organizing the bottle container to be emptied onto the special truck. I’m the boss here. and my name is Jake.”

The young policeman took hold of the bottle, and his companion got out of the car, and they put it in a police evidence bag, being careful not to touch the blood. “Which house did you find this in?” asked the policeman.

“The house just behind us. As you can see, the building is made up of different flats,” Jake said.

“It might be rather hard to find out who put the bottle out,” Terry added.

“It looks like the people who live in the flats share the bins, and it’s anybody’s guess about the owner of the bottle. Meanwhile, I’ll take it to the forensics department to analyse the blood. Thank you for letting us know about this. Good morning.” The young policeman and his mate got into the police car and drove off.

“Do you think we’ll be hearing any more of this?” Terry asked Jake.

“That depends on what the blood-stain reveals,” Jake said.

 

The glass collecting continued and the men were issued with warnings not to touch anything that was considered sharp, which was to be taken away by a special service. The local bin-men didn’t want to get anywhere near the hospitals for fear of jabbing themselves with dirty needles. They could also get infected with jabs from drug addicts’ needles. All the men in Jake’s crew were wary enough of rats and mice working their way through the rotting food, but that seemed harmless in comparison with stuff from the hospitals.

 

Sometimes on early mornings they caught sight of foxes, and were more afraid of the foxes than the foxes were of them. So they left them alone.

 

That evening on the local television news, the police issued a report about the finding of blood on an empty champagne bottle and the address where it had been found, and by whom. Word was put out that someone could be hurt and be bleeding, and if so the hospitals were to inform the police if anyone in the area had been treated for a sharp wound from a heavy glass bottle. The bin-men were glad that the policemen had taken the matter seriously enough to put it on the news. The main problem was that there could be any number of men or women with wounds of that description, after all, it was Christmas - one of the most violent times of the year.

 

The next day the bin-men saw a police car arrive at the building where the bottle with the blood had been found. Now they were on the opposite side of the road and carrying out the same work as they had already done on the other side. The policemen announced themselves by ringing on the downstairs flat’s button. The dustbin-men saw two policemen enter and close the door behind them.

 The dustbin-men carried on with their work. The state of the pavements on the side they were working on, was about as appalling as the side they had first worked on. When the scandal of the blood-stained bottle became public knowledge, the neighbours on the opposite side of the street made a conscious effort to make sure there was nothing untoward about their containers and the contents. The weather was still rather bleak and totally colourless. The policemen went up to the other flats in the building asking the same questions about the possibility of someone having had a rather riotous party that had got out of hand. Nobody was saying anything and the problem with the champagne bottle was, that there had been a special price offer at the large supermarket only a short drive away. Therefore, it would be quite senseless to try and find out who had bought that particular make of champagne, and as the supermarket formed part of a chain, it wasn’t reasonable to expect much help. There were unknowns: whose blood was it, and did anyone die as a result of being wounded by the bottle. Champagne bottles are made of much tougher and thicker glass than wine bottles, so the police came to the conclusion that the bottle could not be used as a weapon by a woman - only by a man. The bin-men were ignorant of all that part of the story, and kept themselves as busy as they could, in order to get home and relax with their families.

 

There was another conflict after Christmas, when some of the residents of the now cleared up streets returned home, to find that there had been a power-cut and the food in the fridges had gone off. The owners of said properties, were seen filling their bins with the food, perishing and leaking out of the plastic bags. Their recycling bins were filled up to the top with glass, plastic, and old clothes. The toys once again made their appearance and the wrapping paper.

 

Street lights and decorations would stay up till after the New Year, when they would be taken down in a day. The pouring rain added a misery to everything it touched. The ribbons and tinsel that adorned the trees in the gardens were bedraggled, and when it stopped raining for a moment long enough for the owners to rush out and pull them down, it created some sort of movement in what could be called a dead part of the year. There wasn’t one street that went without over-filled bins of all kinds after Christmas.

“What a right shambles this place would be if we went on a go-slow or a strike after Christmas,” Jake commented to Terry and Brian.

 

A strong wind blew up making life even harder for the bin-men. They tried to get their work finished earlier that day, in order to get inside their homes and receive the benefits of the warmth, and eat and drink something hot and comforting, and spend the rest of the day just like everyone else.

 

It was towards the New Year, when the body of a young woman was found dead, lying amongst all the rubbish. She wasn’t alone in her miserable death, there were many others who had drunk too much and hadn’t made it home.

 

After having waited for news about the blood-stain on the champagne bottle, it proved to be that of a missing painter, who had been present at a party in the building where the bottle was found. The painter had suffered a heavy blow to the back of his head, leaving a gaping wound - hence the blood.

Somehow the injured painter, whose name was kept out of the news media, survived the heavy blow from the champagne bottle, whereas other men would have been killed outright. During their investigation into the attack on the painter, the police not only had to step over rubbish that was still on the streets, they were subjected to all kinds of anti-police comments, and none of them had anything to do with a Christmas greeting. Although the mess had been greatly reduced, problems were still caused by those who didn’t pay attention as to where they were placing their feet.

The dustbins were a source of many arguments between neighbours and bin-men. In some districts the bins had to be pushed onto the pavements outside the buildings. In other districts they were left just inside the front gardens. The bin-men had made declarations to the local councils that their work was bad enough, without having to walk into a front garden, empty the containers, and put them back where they’d found them.

 

The New Year was just a breath away, and then there would be more bottles and half-empty packets of food.

“When I see all this muck, I can’t help wondering if we spend more on the stuff we throw away, than on what we actually eat,” Jake said.

“It seems to me that we have eyes bigger than our stomachs, and some of us have pretty big stomachs,” Terry added.

“And now, there must be some very slim wallets,” Brian said, grinning.

 

The young woman whose body was found amongst the rubbish was identified as Cheryl Smith, who’d got drunk at a pub party. Her friends had gone home, but she had been so drunk she had collapsed. Her family created a scandal, saying that Cheryl’s friends were not true friends.

 

The injured painter from his hospital bed, gave his thanks to the police, and to the three bin-men for having informed the authorities about the bloodied bottle.