The day was warm, admittedly not as hot as it had been, but warm enough that I opened windows to allow a refreshing flow of air through the house. Mrs Pecker was out today, everything was tidy, the breakfast dishes washed and I had wheeled out the grey bin to the edge of the pavement. Perhaps I should explain that our local council have introduced a new recycling scheme.
We now have three full sized wheelie bins, a plastic box, plus a plastic bag for clothing and paired shoes. All waste must be separated and categorised by us and disposed of only in the appropriate receptacle. Our bin men (can I call them bin men) will collect once per week with these collections alternating between recyclable waste one week and other non-recyclable waste the other week. So as I said, I had put out the grey bin which is for anything that can not be recycled and having stood in the hot weather for the last two weeks, I must admit that it did pong a bit.
Having completed all the usual Monday morning tasks, I continued my normal routine by starting to prepare lunch while watching Bargain Hunt. "What !!! No Bargain hunt?" Indeed, Bargain Hunt had been replaced with Cash in the Attic. I hate cash in the Attic, it is so contrived, so false, and as usual, a repeat. I ate my lunch in silence then went to my small office up the stairs and turned on my p.c. "Lets have a look what is happening on Twitter," I thought.
Harry Potter had reached the number one spot on Twitters list of "Trending Topics", so I began to take a look at what everyone had to say on the subject of HP, most of it of course relating to the new film.
It seems from initial critique, that the film Harry Potter And The Half Blood Prince, is being very well received and is said to be the best movie of the series so far. I can't wait to see it, which is of course incorrect because wait to see it is exactly what I must do. Until next week probably. But I am looking forward to watching it, and with great anticipation of being thrilled once more by this truly magical fantasy.
Being lost in my immediate little world of fantasy and escapism, I failed to notice the first signs of the malevolent presence, extending horrible invisible tendrils of evil and decay. The Dementors had arrived.
I am certain now looking back, that the first point of entry must have been the opened window of the front bedroom. The shapeless form had gained an easy unhindered access and began to spread out, reaching in all directions, invading the very fabric of the building. The house became filled by the acrid stench of decay. An essence of putrefaction, an odour of evil, rotting, stinking filth crept up on me threatening to tear out my very soul. I gasped for breath, feeling that the oxygen had been starved from the air that I tried to breathe, all that was good had been taken away, I would soon be no more than a shivering, whimpering wreck.
I staggered to my feet in a vane attempt to beat off this evil visitation, only to discover that the filthy, rotten, evil, stinking, nauseous stench, had pervaded the entire house. But Dementors it was not. It was not those evil creatures from the wizarding world of Harry Potter who had assailed my senses, for I could now hear that the bin men were in our street. The filthy, rotten, evil, stinking, nauseous stench of decay emanated from our local refuse collection vehicle.
I have never before known the "dust cart" or whatever else it should be called to smell so bad and I now have the deepest sympathy for the people who have to follow it all day emptying our bins.
This I presume is the sweet smell of recycling success.