Guttered

Ah the usual lunchtime walk, nice and fresh out there - I actually hope the wind holds up so I can get blown home on leaving the office...

I've never quite understood the littering mentality. Okay so a can of Special Brew and a bottle of Smirnoff are quite big things to put in your pocket till you reach a bin, but it's hardly any effort in real terms. Even as a kid it was kinda hard-wired into me to wait until I passed a bin, or even until I was home and could put it into our bin (I should clarify here that I'm no longer talking about Special Brew cans but rather litter in general).

I'd berate friends who dropped crisp and sweet wrappers, and woe betide anyone who throws a fast-food bag out of the car window. A malaise of the city that spreads out into the countryside. Throwing things out of the car is even more reprehensible than absent-mindedly dropping some paper as you walk along the pavement. A very very deliberate act with malice and aforethought, requiring the winding down of the window in full knowledge of what you're about to do. Stick it in the footwell or on the back seat and you don't even have to carry it yourself, the car is doing all the work.

It's not as if I'm that tidy a person (just ask my other half) but seeing litter needlessly tossed about riles me. A pain in the neck, so to speak. Which, coincidentally, I had cracked away this morning by the chiropractor (not sure how much more tenuous a link I can create) before heading to the office and playing about with some daft self-portraits.

Another day another dollar. And more focused ponderings on getting my website set-up as a print magazine (finally got things in motion again), tying it in with another cycling idea that's milling, and some more writing being published fairly soon. All of which is aimed at getting me out of this office, and working from home, and getting a border collie (I grew up with one). Small dreams, perhaps, but a change of life that's needed.