A Little About Litter.

I watched a local authority litter picker in Ashbourne today. He was using the regulation bit of kit – a long pole with a pair of jaws at the bottom end operated by a lever in the handle. I watched as he tried to pick up a stubborn piece of paper, which was small and flat and had no crumple or curled edge for the jaws to grab hold of. He gave up in the end and left it there. He moved onto a second piece which was similar, and repeated the failed operation. I expect he’s been told that he mustn’t bend and pick up litter with his gloved hand. The paper might be infected with something deadly, or he might injure his back and sue the council. It seems we’re moving into health and safety overkill.

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So then I went and sat for a few minutes at the bottom part of the old market place. It’s probably the prettiest corner of Ashbourne. It’s a sloping, triangular shaped, cobbled area surrounded by Victorian and Georgian architecture, somewhat faded but still characterful. There’s even a Tudor building in one corner, as well as a tree in the middle and a row of benches along the top side for people to take their ease. I sat on one and noticed that, for several yards in front of the benches, the cobbles were covered with a mass of cigarette butts. Hundreds of them. There was a litter bin only a few feet away, which meant that hundreds of people hadn’t bothered to use it. And nobody has bothered to clean them up. Maybe litter-picking tools aren’t fit for the purpose, and maybe nobody dares bend their back any more.