Doing our bit for the planet

from Potton Jan 2021

Brilliant buys for bikes

Short Story

Doing Our Bit for the Planet

“Looks like everyone’s had the same idea.” Sandra took a swig from her can of pop and drew a sad face on the steamed-up passenger window. “Not how I wanted to spend my Saturday.” They’d been sat in a queue of traffic outside the recycling centre for what seemed like hours, watching as car after car unloaded their discarded Christmas trees. “Look lively, we’re up next,” Terry said, turning his engine back on as the car in front of them was waved through by a man in a high-vis jacket. “We’ll unload the tree and get out of here.” Terry released the handbrake to edge forward but the man held up his hand for them to stop. “What is it now?” Terry said testily, winding down his window. “Sorry, mate.” The man leaned on the car door. “We’ve reached capacity.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” Terry said. “I’m only allowed to let fifty cars through today.” He shrugged. “And you’re fifty-one.” “We’ve been sat here twenty minutes,” Terry protested. “You’ve been stood not two yards away, surely you could have told me that when I pulled up?” “Should have read the sign.” The man pointed to an unreadable laminated sheet tied to the gate. Terry gripped the steering wheel; he felt that if anyone looked at him right now they’d see steam coming out of his ears.

By Jackie Brewster

“I’m not having this,” he said through gritted teeth, opening his car door. “Come on Sandra, we’re getting out.” “I suggest you get back in your car, mate.” The man held up his hands. “And come back another day.” “Firstly, I’m not your mate,” Terry said. “Secondly, we’ve queued here in good faith, and thirdly, you are taking our recycling today.” Drivers in the queue behind them began to take interest in the proceedings. Some wound down their windows, others began to beep their horns in support. “I’ve got to lock the gates,” the man said weakly. “It’s more than my job’s worth to let you in.” “What’s the world coming to?” Terry squared up to him. “Not two weeks ago it was the season of goodwill, and now it’s back to enforcing petty rules.” The man hung his head. “How would you feel about having to drive round with this thing in your car all week? Only to come back next weekend and go through this whole charade again? Can’t you show a little flexibility?” Terry continued, sensing that he had this chap on a hook. “You know it’s the decent thing.” He heard a voice from a car behind him shout “Hear, Hear!” and knew he was winning. “Alright,” the man nodded. “I can’t let you drive in but give me what you’ve got and I’ll take it in for you.” “Sir, I knew you were a decent chap.” Terry slapped him on the shoulder. Several cars beeped in support. “I hope you’re feeling strong because it’s a big one.” Sandra shuffled next to him, still gripping her empty pop can. Terry popped open the car boot. It was empty. “Where’s the ruddy tree Sandra?” Terry whispered through clenched teeth. “I asked you to put it in the boot.” “Did you?” Sandra shrugged. “I thought you were doing it.” “What exactly did you want me to take?” The man scratched his head. “This!” Terry snatched the empty can from Sandra’s gloved hand. “Just that?” the man asked incredulously. “I think I can manage that.” “We’ll be off then.” Terry slammed the boot of the car. “Just doing our bit for the planet.”