Fly Tipping and Littering Menaces

 

  

Fly Tipping and Littering Menaces

Today was a bike day. From the window we saw that the sun was shining half heartedly and trying to dodge the fluffy clouds that were scampering about. Over the morning cuppa, we sifted through our options and it didn’t take long to decide on a repeat of last Saturday’s bike hill rep set, the workout that we used as the bike leg of the home invention event; Littlehampton Lockdown Triathlon. That also settled the big decision as to what we were going to get dressed into.

Bike it was then, and that involved what to do with my electrically charged mop of hair too. Biking means ‘Bunches’, tied low just behind my ears. This is because any other form of tie back is uncomfortable under my bike helmet. For running, I have happily settled on tying my hair back with three elastic bungies. 1. At the crown of my head. 2. Taking in the flyaway sides and 3. All tied together at the bottom of the hairline.

For swimming is just a rough grab of all my hair into, what is nothing like a pony tail, apart from having only one hair tie. For Racing it has to be, the bunches, which are groomed the same way as for the bike but then pinned up tightly at the sides and stuffed under the swim hat. Then after the swim section of the event in a triathlon, I just pull the hair grips out on the way back to the transition back to let the hair fall back into bunches for comfort under the bike helmet.

So my finish photos will nearly all show me with bunches. Unless it is a very hot sunny day when I will retie my badly behaved hair so it goes under a peaked cap. What a game eh? I should cut it off short shouldn’t I.

You may laugh reading this or think it plain pathetic girl stuff. It has nothing to do with fashion or appearance it is about control. My hair has a life of its own, it is a wild animal and whatever I am trying to do with it involves a lot of ‘Tap-O-Lene’ in the first place. I may have mentioned before that my husband often calls me Brian (May) first thing in the morning. Rapunzel, Rapunzel; eat your heart out. The only sympathy I ever get is from other women with uncontrollable tight curly hair.

So we were quickly dressed today and out in our VW Caddy van that Steve has carefully fitted with brace points for our bikes. We have a stacker box ready to go with all extras in readiness for any of this kind of trip. Sets of decent bike shoes for us both, (old ones are in the turbo room and best ones in the transition bags) Helmets, gloves. Water & snacks in case of hitting the wall. Add track pump and tools.

We park the van at the highest point. It’s not a hard course and it is only short but doing it over and over it is still quite testing, there is not a flat section. Two ups and two downs turn and both ends. Reps.

It is a nice quiet route with no heavy traffic and we normally only see a few local village or farm cars. This morning after a couple of reps, there was a truck that went up our route and then quickly it came back, at first we thought he had taken a wrong turn because it is not a through road. We were disgusted when we got toward the end to discover that it had rushed up to dump a load of soil still in a plastic holder that appeared to have burst when the load was dropped. He had obviously just turned the lorry around and dropped the load ON THE ROAD, not even on the side, and then beetled off. We had no need to have taken notice of the trucks registration number at the time, but then when we came to the pile of earth clods, it was too late; the offensive fly tipping scumbag animal had gone.  

Fly tipping is just horrible don’t you think? It seems there are people who live in towns who have no concept of the beauty of the countryside or that we should all dispose of our waste responsibly. This driver and people like him, show such a complete lack of respect for our surrounds and of course the unfortunate country folk that they are so insulting with their obnoxious behaviour. We were both appalled, as were a walking group who arrived a little later, parked and waited until all the members had arrived before setting off on their hike for the day.  

We worked hard at our bike session and were satisfied with the effort we had made to remain in readiness for the day that must come sooner or later. That day is still just a spot on the horizon but I have faith that it will come. There will be another triathlon event for me to test my mettle in one day; if not soon, soon after soon.

At one end of our workout route there is a village pond, where another small group were already settled before we arrived. They were set up for a day of fishing, smoking, downing a few beers and generally hanging out with mates, quietly in an idyllic spot, gazing out at water displaying an abundance of beautiful water lilies.

It never ceases to amaze me, that groups of people, families or bands of youngsters, bother the arrange a day out, drive the countryside and then having enjoyed the fields and flowers and wood and birds, rabbits and deer then leave a disgraceful amount of litter behind them. Surely if they want to see the wonder of the countryside, they should consider leaving it how they found it. Have they no shame. Or even a brain in their heads or between them, shared actions and movements, like starlings.

The photos used today, are of a mist creeping along the course of the River Arun close to the sea, as is it were alive. This only happens from time to time and it always reminds Steve and I of wonderful holidays that we have spent in the Engadine Valley in Switzerland when the clouds known as the Maloja Snake slide through the valley there which is quite breathtaking. There was a movie that we watched once, called The Clouds of Sils Maria. Perhaps we should call our lovely pet mist here in West Sussex, The Arun Serpent. All those in favour…….