I have to report that I am having a few Recycling Related Problems.
I know, I know, you wouldn’t believe it of me, now would you? How many other people keep a bucket in their shower so that they can recycle their soapy water on the garden? How many other people have to leave at least two cardboard boxes full of recyclable waste along with their blue wheelie bin on collection day? How many...well, I can’t think of anything else off the top of my head but if anything else occurs to me mid-Blog, I will let you know.
Even the District Nurses who come to bandage Mr B’s legs, remark upon it. “I guessed you would be a recycler...” more than one has said, as I started sorting out the cardboard boxes from the rest of the medical waste they will leave for me to dispose of. I can never make out if their tone is admiring or disbelieving but, as you know, I always think it is best to take whatever anyone says as a compliment rather than an insult. That way lies contentment. The other way, disappointment and disillusionment. You know it makes sense.
However you are probably all agog to hear about my latest recycling problem. Obviously you may not be in the least bit bothered but then in that case I am guessing you wouldn’t have read this far. The sad fact is, I am having difficulty with my latest birthday banner. In short, I seem to have run out of letters - and a birthday banner cannot be letter-less or it wouldn’t do the job it is intended for.
Some years back I started recycling my banners, asking the parents of my Tremendous Ten grandchildren to return the letters after use. This had the dual effect of saving me a considerable amount of time cutting out letters for each new banner but - much more importantly in my view - means that every child’s banner is made up from letters from other family members’ banners. Thus Every Banner Tells a Story.
The trouble is that some of my Foursome are better than others at returning the banners for recycling. The Eldest of the Darling Daughters is the best at this; she even carefully winds up the wool or cord on which the letters were strung and returns it. Usually (and I like this special touch) she returns the banner for recycling in the self-same A4 envelope in which it was sent, which is taking the recycling of banners to New Heights. Unfortunately one of her daughters has received her very last banner while the other daughter has but three banners to go. I am not going to be able to count on her for very much longer.
Yesterday My Boy warned me that he and his family would be on holiday for Young Sam’s twelfth birthday so I would have to post off the traditional banner (plus birthday card and present) to reach them by Friday. I immediately went to fetch my Banner File out of the stationery cupboard in the small bedroom (I hope you are impressed with the fact that I have a stationery cupboard but I suggest you don’t attach too much importance to it, bearing in mind you haven’t seen it for yourself.) Which is when I discovered that I was going to have to cut out all but three letters for Sam’s banner. Where have all the letters gone?
It wouldn’t have been so bad, had the missing letters been the easy ones to cut out - like E or I or F, for example. But, no, I was going to have to cut out lots of difficult letters, including two Ss, an M and a W. It was a daunting prospect.
But, hey, this is my dear Sam we are talking about. There is no way I can let my fifth eldest grandchild down. I set to, with scissors, ruler and coloured card.