During The Big Clean of my youngest's bedroom, a fair amount of stuff had been set aside to go to the Secours Catholique. Other stuff was destined for the dump. Little by little I am ridding my life of previous crap. It's very therapeutic.
Last weekend, my TWDB and I cleaned the garage. That resulted in another trip to the dump, a swept garage floor, room for 3 bikes (not the 7 there previously were) and a BMW GS1200 - its summer quarters.
I still have a number of 205 GTI wheels that I need to get rid of that came with the 406 in the boot and I have never got round to either selling or taking to the breaker's, and a dismantled wardrobe whose bits I've probably lost and would never put back together anyway...
So yesterday's task was dumping a boot-full at the Secours Catho. It included a box of Nintendo stuff. The shop is at the top of some stone stairs, so I carried the box up and saw what I can only describe as a plouc loitering on the terrasse looking dodgy. He was quite small, very skinny, half naked (top half) and had dreadful pock-marked skin. There was a boy of about 9 with him who looked much more presentable.
I put down the box and went back to the car to get more stuff. When I was going up the stairs for the second time, the kid was walking down with my box. Oi, said I, where are you going with that? He replied that the lady had said that all stuff in the corner (where I had put my box) was to be thrown away. A bit disingenuous there and now obviously from the same plouc stock.
I told him I'd only just brought it, it was not for throwing away and he had to turn round and put it back. He did, and I removed the box to a safer spot. The dad muttered something incomprehensible which I ignored.
The next time I came up the stairs I saw the plouc walking down with the box. Did you pay for that? I asked. He said he had, and I could check if I wanted. I said I would do just that, and went into the shop. There, I found some batty old dear who looked like she was in a flap. I asked, loudly if she had sold a box of stuff to some guy. She looked confused, so I repeated my question fixing her with a 'for god's sake, please concentrate' look. Light dawned and she said he had, so that was okay.
I didn't ask how much, that wasn't my problem but it was probably ridiculously cheap.
So I came out again and saw the plouc. So? he said, I did pay, didn't I? Yes, I replied not giving a shit as long as he didn't steal the damned box. I'm not thief, he replied. Good, said I, and he started muttering insults and said he would 'get me'. Ooh, I said, I'm scared...! mocking his empty threats.
I took up the last of my stuff, ignored him and his kid and drove off wondering if I would take stuff back to the Secours Catholique again or just chuck it all in the dump as it seemed to amount to the same thing.