You are reading a single comment by @pifko and its replies.
Click here to read the full conversation.
-
WELL. That'll teach me not to put the bins out the night before
A vivid memory of mine is the night following the home-birth of our 3rd child. My wife, newborn and I all in bed, deep in a lovely warm slumber, exhausted, relieved and loved up. This dreamy state is shattered at 5am when, half-awake I hear the sound of the bin lorry. Much like helping to deliver our daugher, primitive instinct took over and half naked I jumped out of bed, sprinted for the front door, made eye-contact with this week's refuse specialist and managed to drop the bin off in the nick of time. He could have fobbed me off, but gave me a wink and I think called me 'fella' and happily disposed of our stuff. We ended up naming our daughter after that bin man!
pifko
WELL. That'll teach me not to put the bins out the night before. In bed, heard the tinkle of glass - bin lorry was directly outside the house. Two of us ran down half-dressed, rushed out of the house with the recycling boxes and profuse apologies/thanks, and managed to spill the black bin bag in the process (yes it's an alternate fortnight today). All ok in the end though Bin Night fans, you'll be glad to hear.
Phew.