I remember when they used to go around with a pony and cart. They would stand up so that they could see over your walls. They would also call out " rag bone". But then I can also remember coal and milk being delivered by horse and cart. The only horse and cart jobs we see now are hearses .
I remember the rag 'n' bone man too, B3. Mother would save old rags (often our playing out clothes that were beyond redemption) and he, the Steptoe type chap, would weigh the bag of them on one of those spring-loaded balance things, and give her the appropriate amount of cash. This, of course, was before they invented the "green" thing and "recycling".
This is more sad than curmudgeonly. Buried a beautiful male chaffinch today - not a mark on it, just "fallen off its perch", apparently. I hadn't really appreciated that they had iridiscent green feathers on their backs. Gorgeous...
Since 2019 I've lived in east Clare, in the west of Ireland.
Not really curmudgeonly but tying in with getting rid of scrap. When my neighbour died there was a skip on the drive to get rid of the contents of the attic, garage and a couple of sheds. There was almost a queue of skip divers searching for anything 'useful'. My door bell rang one day and a very polite Eastern European gentleman asked if I thought it would be OK for him to look through the skip. He was the only person who bothered to ask.
Not really curmudgeonly but tying in with getting rid of scrap. When my neighbour died there was a skip on the drive to get rid of the contents of the attic, garage and a couple of sheds. There was almost a queue of skip divers searching for anything 'useful'. My door bell rang one day and a very polite Eastern European gentleman asked if I thought it would be OK for him to look through the skip. He was the only person who bothered to ask.
@KT the only people who have knocked and asked my son if he needs any help are the gypsy girls from the camp along the road. They said they were young fit and healthy and would do anything for them, just ask. The people from the village.... nothing.
Gardening on the wild, windy west side of Dartmoor.
We have rental properties and the best tenants we ever had were a young Rumainian couple. They were decent, honest and hard working and we were sorry to loose them when they needed a bigger place. The worst was a respectable middle class British slut who complained about everything, she was a real pain.
I have heard that the easiest way to get rid of an old washing machine/fridge etc., is to leave it on your drive in the packaging that the new one came in ....
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The only horse and cart jobs we see now are hearses .
They said they were young fit and healthy and would do anything for them, just ask.
The people from the village.... nothing.
The worst was a respectable middle class British slut who complained about everything, she was a real pain.