Bin there

'I wouldn't want to play I Have Never with you,' said Kim this morning when I met her to go over a few HR points. I'd said something about one of my adventures. It's usually wise to rein in the detail of some travel situations when talking to colleagues in the UK, as things perfectly manageable in the field sound more exaggerated and negative when discussing at a desk in Cambridge.

My friend Alison is staying for a couple of nights as she usually works remotely from the Peak District. She treated me to a delicious pad thai and I scooped up some ice cream for pud.

She's an excellent house guest. She retains toilet rolls for recycling. I'm always surprised at people who are good at recycling but who don't recycle waste that originates in the bathroom. My observations over the years tell me it's a common phenomenon. A cereal box would go directly into the cycling, yet a toilet roll in the neighbouring room: forget it. Fastidious with plastic milk cartons but a shampoo bottle three metres from the recycling bin: no way José.

Perpetrators know who they are.