Lord of the flies

It all began with the bin. It was rather like an episode of the X files, the way the bin began to mutate and multiply. We started the week much as usual with our old familiar green wheelie bin, always identifiable by its smell of old nappies and stale pepperoni pizza, but by Friday it had spawned an entire alien bin species, all over the patio. Giant black plastic bins towering over blue squatting bins, dalek like compost bins dallying with dwarf bins, brightly coloured recycling bins clamouring for attention on the stone flags. Now while I'm fully aware that the plastic packaging on the kids toys could take the next four hundred and fifty years to biodegrade in landfill, and that my own household is personally responsible for a significant chunk of the 25 million tonnes of waste that we ferry to the dump each year, I hadn't realised that recycling it would be so bin intensive.

Carbonlite's campaign to transform our household practices had hardly got off the ground with the bins before the postman arrived with a jiffy bag full of worms, the beginners kit from Wiggly Wigglers to kick start the heap. Just what a girl needs to go with her Weetabix and semi skimmed. Needless to say building a suitable home for the worms was a man's job. The male variety of the Carboncopies jostled to help with the affordable housing scheme on the patio, while I looked on anxiously from the third floor window. Soon I got into the swing of compost creation, as the smart green mini bin by the sink saved me a good few trips to the wheelie bin. It happily swallowed up everything vegetable including the chard mountain in the fridge ( chard being the unwelcome visitor in the organic vegetable box. ) Egg boxes fitted nicely in there too, it was a pleasure to offload all the half masticated jam sandwiches. I even braved the worms in the main bin, closing my eyes and hoping the contents of the mini bin wouldn't end up missing their target and decorating my new pink pumps. I was proud of my efforts in food recycling, and felt it was a substantial start to my new role as planet protector. Admittedly it's a bit of a challenge given that we've only got a small yard with tiny flower beds and no lawn, and the compost bin is a central feature of the garden. I read my leaflet from CAT on the latest cold composting techniques and felt my eco-education was progressing nicely. But I knew my harmonious relationship with the natural world couldn't last.

When the weather warmed up the area by the sink became a hive of activity. Our country kitchen started to resemble a riverside camp in the Scottish Highlands as the midgies arrived in chard-hungry packs and began a sit-in in the mini bin. Then I was ambushed in a lunchtime raid. Expecting the usual placid encounter with a rotten pile of worm infested rubbish, I opened the patio compost bin and was bombed by an SAS midge flying squad. As I squealed and ran, the mini bin went flying into the air and deposited several rotten avocados and a load of swede peel onto the Wendy house roof. I sprinted round the garden as if a swarm of bees were at my tail, much to the amusement of Carbonlite, eating his lunch on the patio, copy of The Ecologist at hand to swat any flying beasties.
"Don't worry about the fruit flies, it means nature is doing her bit. But best not to empty it in the daytime I find," he advised, stabbing a cherry tomato with his fork.
"They vomit on everything and then suck it up again" I wailed. "Anyway how would you know? Have you actually once emptied the bin?"
"I put a load of toilet roll tubes in there yesterday," he said cheerfully. "Don't forget to put the lid back on will you, we don't want the worms to escape." I retreated to the downstairs toilet to empty the washing machine that resides there. Thankfully the room was still a bin free zone. But Carbonlite had other ideas. "I found one of the non disposable nappies rotting in the washing basket." I reassured him there was no way it could rot as I clear the washing basket every day. "We need a nappy bin," he said, delighted at the thought, and a ten minute debate ensued about the toxicity and concentration of babies' wee in a mixed wash. The result was the arrival of yet another bin, this time filled with water; perfect for a baby on the crawl. Now if the water butt doesn't drown her, she can go swimming in diluted urine. I took a recycled supermarket plastic bag full of rubbish out to the wheelie bin. There I found myself once more under attack, this time by mummy and baby fruit flies who had found a new home.

Carbonlite was by my side in a flash. "Ah well, if all the food waste was in the compost bin, then they wouldn't set their sights on that one would they?" Then I knew the answer, to get on the internet and order one last bin, tall, thin and husband-sized. It wasn't easy 'going green' but at last I was engaging with recycling!