Cooperativo Oso Pardo d’Espanya (COPE)

The Observer Book of Weather (Observer 20/5/07 p.31).

"In December 2006, bears in the mountains of Spain gave up hibernating because the winter was simply too warm."

My first comment was - “All ten of them!"

The Scene.

A smouldering rubbish dump somewhere at the back of Torrelavega in Cantabria, December 2006.

There appears to be a group of large men in fur coats shambling about or sprawled on abandoned furniture. They are seen to be ‘oso pardo’, brown bears. They are all male, ‘machos’.

Raoul speaks in a heavy Gallegan accent, wearing shades and a baseball cap. He is spread-eagled on a collapsed leather chair. Taking an enormous spliff out of his mouth he waves it in the direction of the other bears, vaguely.
"Hey dude, wanna hit?"
He usually insists on greeting each member with a high five, most of the time he is wasted. Privately, members of COPE think Raoul is too close to the 'out of work' boat crews in Cabo who supply the Yerba Buena.

The direction Raoul was waving the spliff includes in its 120 degree arc an old car on 3 wheels and a beer keg. Through the crazed windscreen there appears to be someone or something in the car. It is an impression rather than and image. The impression is of a bear sat behind the wheel turning it from side to side. If you listened hard you might hear a low sound "Brrm Brrm"- or maybe not. Perhaps this is Alfonso, from Cantabria. He is known, unkindly, by the other members of COPE, as Alfonso el Sabio.

A small but very powerful bear has just shambled into the space. He is carrying a huge stone, a box on his back and pulling a dead ox on a rope. The other bears greet him.
"Ola Inyaki! Still in training?"
Inyaki is Basque, but the bears never, ever, refer to him as such. He is always described as the honoured member from Euskadi. A good bear on your side in a fight, he does tend to hang on to the spliffs and the honeycombs when they are being passed round. The other members of COPE suspect that he has separatist tendencies and too great a fondness for Txacoli, drinking it as if it was water, which it nearly is, of course.

Leon from Leon is the current convenor. He sits at the centre of the space twitching his slightly grey, patrician, muzzle. These meetings are just an excuse for him to get out and cut loose. He would prefer more civilised, intelligent companions.
His grandfather once described a meeting of the Guild, as it was then called, in the 40s that was addressed by a magnificent but rather strident black bear called, Herman. There is no one of that stature, strength or moral fibre here today.

Javier, from Asturias is the firebrand, political commissar, and secretary of the Coop. His father was once shot at by the Caudillio and lived to tell the tale. The tale inherited by his son is a patrimony generously and frequently distributed. He is proud to be addressed as 'El Rojo'. He would probably be shocked by his nickname of 'La Rioja', identifying at least two of his preferences (weaknesses?), if he ever heard it.

Makeweight bears from Segovia (Guitarra), Burgos (Sid), Avila (Jose Maria!), Salamanca (El Profesor), Aragon (Bruno) and Navarra (Garbanzo) sit or shuffle through the rubbish.

Leon calls the meeting to order and sets out the agenda.

"Colleagues", he will never be able to use the more accepted address of comrades,

"We need to decide three things today."

"Who will we send to the 'Bear Necessities' networking event for EU subsidies in Poland?"

"How much will we contribute to the 'Lost Cubs of Rumania' Appeal?"

"And, if we are going to hibernate this winter?"

Raoul lets out a growl that would send shivers down the spine of a vampire and shambles, unsteadily, over to the bear from Aragon. He proffers the spliff.

"Jeesu Bruno! This skunk would make an Opus Dei Archbishop take up animal husbandry!"

Inyaki takes his accordion out of its box and starts to play one of those interminable txirmiri folk tunes. Several bears groan. Jose Maria lets out a wild howl and calls for the partying to begin. Garbanzo then takes off in a tuneless song of death, loss, betrayal, and txacoli, but not necessarily in that order. Javier rests his head in his hands. Leon rolls his eyes. It's going to be a long hard winter.

If you looked at the three wheeled car you might have the impression that Alfonso was sitting still; very, very still. If you listened hard you might hear a low rumble, barely a voice. You would think it was saying

"I'm going to stay up all winter."

over and over again.

Annual Report and Accounts of Buddhist Pizza Investment Enterprises.

I have great pleasure in presenting the annual report and accounts of Buddhist Pizza Investment Enterprises (BPIE).
First can I welcome our visitors from the USA, Tibet and South Wazieristan. It is pleasant to see violent saffron robes mixing once again with the gentle hues of olive green uniforms and the modest garb of our faithful followers.

We have proved ourselves not only popular but profitable! The accompanying consolidated accounts show a remarkable and substantial increase in trading. Despite having to countenance the early retirement of our good friend Mr Wolf for family reasons we have continued with strong growth in all sectors. We carry forward a surplus of over 60 billion dollars, after tax, due in no small part to the hard work of our staff and directors and the ease in selling the idea of Affordable Nuclear Deterrence for Small and Medium Countries.

It took some time to develop this concept with the commander in chief of our private security company but we got there in the end. I will pause for a moment to remember those that fell on the journey, Donald, Karl and the old guy who used to bring the coffee and hubble-bubbles round, or was it the hookers, when we were looking for inspiration.

I have to pay tribute here to someone very special. I could not have done this without the unselfish support of my deputy, Dick, or Deputy Dick as we refer to him. Only someone with a religious conviction so strong, a humane vision of the sanctity of all life and an understanding of the importance of the bottom line could have driven this organisation to the position it is in today! I recommend the modest increase in his remuneration to 10 percent of the audited surplus and a similar contribution to his pension fund. As you know I draw no remuneration from our company but make a modest charge of 4,000 dollars a mile for my travel and subsistence.
The diagram above shows the breadth of interest in our product across the globe. We are glad to see activity in the USA on the Eastern Seaboard. This includes contact with Langley Va. and a substantial property in DC. I personally look forward to developing a very close relationship here.

The traditional market for our type of product is well represented by our contacts in Germany, Italy and Sweden. They are very discrete retailers. In addition, the EU is a haven of peace, stability and security and so able to to provide our products and services to those that are not. They have done this in a way which is affordable, not traceable and free from so called 'ethical' restraint for some time.

Interesting and adventurous proposals are at the heart of our business. This is the reason that we have not overdeveloped in the dark, and eventually we hope very profitable, continent. We are making steady progress in East Africa and have avoided some of the pitfalls that minor competitors have experienced.

My regret for the year is that interest in China and Mongolia appears not to have continued from its early, high, level. That is why I am so pleased to have our visitors with us today from Central Asia. We wish to prosper in a region to which we owe so much philosophically.

It is important not to paint too rosy a picture for our investors. There are substantial threats and challenges in the year ahead. I have not used the R word so far but I cannot duck the duties of a responsible helmsperson. My colleagues on the board see Russia as a threat. That may be the case and I'm sure you were willing to submit to the minor inconvenience of a full body radiological examination before being admitted to the meeting. Peace of mind is, after all, priceless. I prefer to see Russia as an opportunity for the future, and hope to have some exciting news when we report on BPIE next year. Until then, I take the approval of the report and accounts as read, invite you to join us in a glass of wine, just the one, and commend to you our company slogan.

Make me one with everything.

Integers and Flowers

OK
So this is mine

41 2A 9B DD 98 F4 46 AC 2B 04 3A 55 3F 03 28 E0

Keep your hands off.

Thanks.

Meanwhile where the cow slips there slip I.

Getting it Wrong

Sometimes it is possible to be wrong and feel a warm glow.
Adieu Woolfi Adieu.

I mentioned my failing to a colleague this pm and she suggested that it was a shame he was ousted for favouring his A rab squeeze.

Ho Hummmm.....

The Last Person to Leave

I'll get this in first. There are bound to be lots of bad jokes about light bulbs when we get there.

I am grateful for the thought to A Brown esq. and The Major, of course.

Two Soldiers squat in a shelter somewhere on an airfield in the south of Iraq. The heat is ferocious and the dust and detritus of war so thick in the air it precludes thought let alone vision. Smartarsed bastard in the squad called it the fall out from munitions of depleted humanity.

"Sarge, can we no leg it tae the ramp and get in the transport?"

"No private McCavity, we are going to wait for the signal that the ramp is clear of shite so that we are not left out in the cold waiting for some godless bastard to blow our arses off."

"Don't worry son, were going home. No one wants to be the last poor fucker to die for a mistake."

"Aye well."

"Did I ever tell you about the Major?"

"You mean Major Wales, Sarge?"

"No you bampot. The Major. The man who ran the flag down in Palestine and was the last one out alive."

"Is that like, Gaza?"

"The Major retired from the British Army and was supplementing his pension running a student union on the banks of the Forth when I met him."

"He told us this and while he could tell a good story, I have no reason to doubt it."

"He was part of the last group out. There he was lowering the old onion jack for the final time in the middle of some god forsaken part of a newly abandoned Palestine."

"Being somewhat preoccupied, the cunning old bastard had not fully appreciated his position. During the descent of the flag he realised that he was the last squaddie on the ground and there was a superior number of the chosen few out there who would nail his sorry ass."

"He described his exit in words involving shite and a shovel. He had us in tears, but I think it was tight enough."

"Is this you trying tae take my mind off it Sarge."

"Aye son, just think of me as your fucking mother."

"Thanks Sarge but I'll give the goodnight kiss a miss, your no ma type!"

"No probs. McCavity."

They receive the signal to go. They start up, heading for the ramp.

Each is thinking of the Major and his jolly jape when an explosion rips the vehicle apart.

It was the tenth time that McCavity had been fired on in Iraq.

Shy and Retiring.

June 2007.

Two men sit in a room, uncomfortable on such a hot day, dressed in jackets and ties. It is gloomy. There are large windows but the drapes filter out most of the light. A bottle of 30 year old malt, the colour of a maiden's blush, sits between them. Each cradles a glass.

"You'll be off tomorrow then, Tony?"

"Yes, I'll just say goodbye to the staff and tootle down to the palace."

"Put the fear of god into the old bat. Tell her that Phil the Greek is going on trial for conspiracy to murder!"

"Shit, Gordon that's not funny!"

"No, but I would love to see the silly old fart stand up sober in court and deny it. Have you heard from Peter?"

"Oh god, Gordon, one long whine after another."

"That is a shame, such talent, such intellect, such legs!"

"Now Gordie, remember the deal."

"OK, Tony. Is there any more of the devil's buttermilk?"

"Why not!"

"I tell you kid; I don't know what you had to do to get Big I to sign up for the deal but I hand it to you. In fact I don't want to know. I'm away off to see The Mater at the weekend and I could not have that on my conscience. Wife and bairns ok about this, Tony?"

"Yes. Ms Manzanilla is going off to a re-birthing experience in the mud flats of Cancun. The wains will all come round in the end. I'm sorry about the other night, Ewan is so highly strung. He takes after his mother!"

"OK Tone, no offence. Any more?"

"Sure. Why not? How's herself, I bet she is looking forward to this?"

"Aye. It's a pity it is not Princess M, though, that would have given me some fun with Betty when we went up to the palace."

"Christ, give me some more of that, I'm having second thoughts about this."

"No worries pal. I'm just pulling the plonker for old times sake."

As the level of the bottle goes down the two men fall silent and look in to the distance.

Visions from the past seep into the foreground; things getting better not worse, friends and comrades lost and dead.

"Look, Gordon, I would exhort you to abjure vanity and self-aggrandisement, recognise that you are the honoured servant of the people and that your only righteous purpose is to promote the welfare of your fellow citizens and the wellbeing of mankind."

"Away tae fuck, Tone! You are a serious piece of business. Oops it's empty. Is there any more?"

"I'll send one of the little people to see."

"Thanks!"

Big Questions for Gordie

Gordie, does Vulture Capitalism automatically lead to non-domicide tax status?

The Last Will and Testament A. Blair.

Being of sound mind and firm intent I hereby dispose of my personal, political and literary estate.
To my wife and family I leave the legacy of the years I have spent in public service. My wish is that all my disposable property, land, houses and chattels, pensions, debts and credits, the total, to be for their benefit in perpetuity as agreed by my Executrix.
My personal papers, electronic correspondence and computer files I leave to Ms AC my political Executrix. It is my earnest wish that she dispose of them in such fashion that they do not cast doubt on my character, competence or capacity. It is also my wish that any benefit in cash or in kind which derives from these hereditaments is applied to the relief of poverty, famine, and destitution in the countries of Iraq and Afghanistan.
The manuscript of the Great Novel, The Songs and Riffs and The Literary Trivia I leave to Domenic Lawson for the Radio 4 Archive and hereby bequeath the fees for access to the same to the following Anj………

The North

Two men sit in a room across a well polished table looking out to an expanse of green through high windows.

"Another Jaffa Cake, Ian, to go with the Orange Pekoe?"

"No thank you, Martin. Herself the Baroness is at me to lose some more weight."

"Lord, you would not want to upset her now, she is a powerful woman."

"Martin, I would rather run naked down the Falls Road wearing a nipple ring and a green white and gold turban, drinking from a flagon of the devil's buttermilk!"

"I thought Gerry came up with a fine tribute to George Dawson. He has a way with the Gaelic that can sometimes bring a tear to these sad old eyes of mine.!"

"I didn't know you had such an appreciation of the Erse, Ian."

Each man falls into a companionable silence and looks out across the castle lawn as if into the future.

In the distance each can hear music.

Ian picks out the faint strains of a fife band playing 'The Sash' but Martin just hears the lilt of the uillean pipes as they flow through the notes of 'The Derry Air'.

And cut!

It’s Official. Today I Am Old.

Araucaria had a tricky little puzzle in the Grauniad at the weekend.
I solved 8 down this morning as I celebrated with a birthday breakfast.

The clue:-

Multiple character (unless under 60?) (8)

The checked letters for the millions of our readers who do not do the XWDS

M_N_F_L_

You can’t argue with Araucaria, and I thought it would be the prime numbers that would get me!

What we did on our holidays!

Back from the N. Yorks Moors. Really enjoyed it, never thought I would say that about time spent in Yorkshire let alone write it! I only managed 4 pints in the week. What 4 pints though. I am inspired to try a crossword on all the different species of beer!

We had an Amble, well it was more of a Bimble!
Plod across moor from village to Roman Camp, couple of hours there and very impressive it was too.

I have been reading and enjoying Waterlog by Deakin; - tales of swimming and derring-do.

A swimmer for many years now, it has probably kept me alive, but I just do the easy bit; breast stroke, crawl and back stroke, up and down the pool.

This guy swims in unusual, interesting and scary places. One such was the Scillies. Lots of stuff washed up on beaches; historically, Cloudesley Shovell, latterly front doors and sinks. None reported to the Receiver of Wrecks... for a variety of reasons.

As we return down a pleasant lane I attempt to explain this to Lady BP.
"The Receiver of Wrecks" I pronounce!
"Who's Rex?"
"I don't know" I reply "They could be from anywhere"
"Yes. But Who's Rex?"
As Kurt would say, so it goes, for about five minutes.

We twig at about the same time, collapse of stout parties.
The retriever Rex begins to grow as a character in my minds eye.

On another day the Waterlog theme continues as I watch mermen, lads in wet suits, frolicking in Whitby Harbour, jumping off piers and trying to snatch seagulls in the air!

Politics!

Scary, scary.

Thoughts on the Scottish Play.
Alex Salmo salar appears to be walking it. Scottish Labour in BIG PANIC.
Helpful suggestions for some last minute slogans?

Vote Labour or
- You'll never see your Mammy again;
- Gordie will come and smile at the bairns..... Maybe not.

The Brits are whingeing about the break up of the union. They see the feckless Caledonians sucking on the teat of the Treasury, wanting independence and more, regardless of the damage to the UNION. We would be left talking to the Welsh and Paisley. Eloi, Eloi, Lama Sabachthani! Pardon me. Without our friends in the north we might slip down the league table on a number of criteria. Maybe no bad thing, spend more time improving the lot of our long suffering peeps instead of fighting useless wars and commissioning useless weapons systems!

But, my god, the tories might get in for ever!

Oooh! Interesting and scary times.

A Statement to Associates of The Anglo Italian Buddhist Pizza Corporation AIBPC

We have been made aware of a certain situation regarding the Goombah who is president of the World Financial Services Inc, a wholly owned subsidiary of AIBPC. Woolfi, a respected member of the family and long term business associate of mine, is a very focused and dedicated employee. He understands these things of ours. Without his ability to put money on the street and get it back again with passion and 15 points I would not have my third yacht. It is with some regret that I am hearing stories about the preferment of his cummari in a financial and institutional sense. It is one thing to reward a squeeze for services in the bedroom department, but business is business, especially our business. An another thing, I think it is unpatriotic at this time to be fraternising with the A rabs, especially when there are good Anglo Italian cummari looking for a regular guy and some medium term financial security. But, as Fat Tony says "Hey! What can you do?"

So, this is what we will do. Woolfi gets to keep the WFSI franchise but gives up the Washington pad and the Georgetown street activities. This A rab cost centre goes strictly off the books and becomes a part time leisure interest. The tax situation will have to be cleared with Jimmy the Books but Woolfi picks up any tab. Fat Tony will assume responsibillity for the street activity and change and I will expect provelone from all profit centres in due course.

Good Guys

Hans Rosling strikes me as a good guy!
His latest blog about

Perestroika in the Soviet Republic of Texas!

had me rocking in the isles. Not an easy subject though. Its fun to see the p... taken out of the Lone Star State and by association, its most infamous scion. However, the death of children is no laughing matter!

One extreme to another. Part 2

Tim Harford writing the undercover economist column in the FT magazine references work explaining how very poor people make money, and how they spend it.

The ”very poor” are those who live on less than a dollar a day. The benchmark - a rare piece of brilliant marketing from the World Bank - is both more generous and more frugal than it seems. Generous, because the benchmark dates from 1985 and has been adjusted since to take account of inflation in each country and is generally now more than a dollar a day. But frugal because the dollar is adjusted for purchasing power. In other words, a Kenyan farmer might have 50 cents a day to spend but still not count as ”very poor” because 50 cents in Kenya buys more than a dollar would in the US. However you look at it, a dollar a day is a tiny income.

Ok so "A dollar a day" goes down in the category of statements about the human condition that start with:

You only need 1 cubic metre of water for survival - a year!

My own approach to the redistribution of wealth has been to have conspicuously little of it. Additionally, I encourage the provision of access to resources by combining in mutual organisations which provide finance at non exploitative rates. Well it keeps me off the streets.

Imagine my interest in another article entitled "Uncommon Wealth" by Chrystia Freeland in the FT Weekend A-Train column on March 31 2007 where she states

. .. even people who have a lot of experience with a lot of money, such as Wall Street investment banker Felix Rohatyn, admit that the magnitude of today’s wealth is hard for them to fathom.

He finds

.... the mass of money that is being accumulated by individuals staggering, If you suddenly have $4bn in your bank account, I don’t know what you do. It is one thing to decide how you will deal with a fortune of $500m. I used to think that was a huge amount of money. But, to a lot of people, it is not any more.

I am staggered by the amounts but lets qualify the phrase 'lot of people' and not get carried away shall we!

The significance as far as Freeland is concerned is that Soros, Gates and Buffet, to name but a few, have added -

new energy, and star power..... to promote social change

I have always found Peanuts a great consolation at these troubling moments of indecision about the meaning of life, the universe and everything else! Basically, I am an altruist. I want to make the world a better place for me to live in.

Ojala!

From one extreme to another

Under the unlikely title of Hannibal Lecter saved my life (the Grauniad Review on Saturday 31 March)

Philip Oltermann discovers what the homeless customers of a London mobile library are reading.

Now you know how I feel about libraries. These Friends are volunteers and do not require six figure salaries to provide a decent, relaxed, and very useful service for a group of individuals who are, at best, ignored!

At the other end of the spectrum the debate continues about ebooks.
John Naughton spots an essay on the book reader industry.

The folks on the south bank won't be getting ebook readers any time soon but what a great idea. Solar powered of course!

April Fools Day Ambling

There she is, the second great love of my life. Lucy!
But I knew before we stepped out of the car park that it would be unrequited!

Off on a trip round Nowton. Is it a nudist colony? Nay lad; they don't speak like that round here!

I believe that the Amblers now are established with their own interweb page so I intend to put them in my links list and only report as the spirit moves!

Hasta Luego!

What we did on our holiday

We declared a national holiday on March 27. You may have missed this. Keep up!

As is traditional on these occasions, we went to the seaside.

I remember going to Blackpool on various saints' days and liturgical milestones. The charabanc would transport us from the classic slum in Salford to the classic seaside resort. To alleviate the tedium of driving through the countryside my mother had various tricks and trucos. My favourite was looking out for the first glimpse of Blackpool Tower. Naturally enough, this could engage a competitive child from the outskirts of Preston!

We hove into Aldeburgh about noon and paid our respects to the Scallop.


Nice one Maggi
The work bears the legend:-

"I hear those voices that will not be drowned"

Amen.

On the instructions for the installation by SCDC:-

"Care should be taken when climbing on or crawling under the sculpture, and children should be carefully supervised."

Needless to say, Lady BP was off climbing and crawling before you could carefully supervise a small child!

A walk through the town and lunch.
On the way back along the prom, money changed hands and a purchase was made carefully wrapped in newspaper.

This later emerged at dinner in the form of green fish curry. Strangely enough, we had most of the ingredients to produce this on a whim. It does go rather well with the Shawsgate Bacchus, This was procured in Wickham Market. Think global, eat (and drink) local!

There should be more national holidays!

A modest proposal for trees!

Some of my best friends are trees but I would not admit to it if anyone was listening.

Concern has been expressed about the deforestation of Uganda.

"Despite these concerns, the government is considering giving away an estimated 7,000 hectares of the dense 32,000 hectares Mabira Forest Reserve, about 50km east of the capital, Kampala, to a sugar company to plant cane."

"Environmentalists said the move would disrupt Uganda's bio-mass and rainfall patterns. It would also endanger rare species and disrupt the livelihood of thousands of people living around the tropical forest."

"According to Frank Mulamuzi, destruction of part of the forest would severely impact on Lake Victoria water levels, affect rainfall patterns, disturb the eco-system and change the micro-climate."

So nothing new there then! However, we are nothing if not inventive. This mealy-mouthed eco-claptrap cut no timber with the government spokesperson who disagreed.

"This is the proper way of utilising resources,"

according to Tamale Mirundi, President Yoweri Museveni's mean green machine!

He said.

"It is easier to relocate the forest by planting trees elsewhere than to relocate a factory."

Now hold on. That gives me the germ of an idea! I see the very HN51 virus of and idea. Have we been going about this eco-business the wrong way? Could it be that all we need to do is relocate trees to somewhere less contentious and inconvenient. Bloody awkward having the Amazonian rain forest where it is. With the greatest respect to Johnny Appleseed, or whoever, I think the Caledonian Forest was a big mistake. All those subsistence farmers in their crofts, much better to have sheep, grouse and heather. It made it so much easier, eventually, to claim the subsidies!

Think of the millions to be made from the relocation of trees in the name of preserving the planet. The recycling of the displaced timber. The potential for redevelopment of prime building land. The opportunities for professionals, consultants and other mendicants to make an honest living. I feel faint at the thought. Where's the camomile?

70 million square metres for bugger all. Mmmm! 17 thousand acres and change in old money for nowt and here I am trying to take over the world on a government grant!

Anyone want to move a tree?

Many thanks to our EA correspondent in the shoes for this.

The Gentle Gardener

Once upon a time, in the foothills of the Suffolk Alps, there was a garden. The gentle gardener planted new flowers and tended the bushes and shrubs. The husband of gentle gardener (THOGG) enjoyed the garden.

The gentle gardener enhanced the peace and beauty of the garden by planting a bird table festooned with containers of nuts and seeds. The birds enjoyed this and sang for their suppers!

Sadly, the garden was invaded by rats!

The gentle gardener was concerned, but the rats had four legs rather than two and so a, benevolent, blind eye was turned to creatures small. However, the rats went forth and multiplied as rats do! They, and their brood, not only stole food meant for the birds but also attacked them and dragged them off into the bushes. This was hard for the gentle gardener.

THOGG looked on!

Killing rats, at least the 4 legged variety, was not something he had considered. To preserve the peace and beauty of the garden he was prepared to act. It is difficult to hit a rat with a blow from a pitchfork! Traps ensnared as many birds as rats. The Lord of the Manor would not approve!

THOGG considered further!

He had seen the rats climb up the bird table and down the containers of nuts and seeds to steal the food. If they were disturbed they dropped to the ground and scuttled away into the bushes.

He half filled large containers with water. There was sufficient water in the container that a rat, even a big rat, would have to swim to keep its nose above the water. There was not sufficient water in the container to enable a rat to scramble up the smooth sides and escape!

With a heavy heart THOGG arranged the containers underneath the seeds and nuts. As the rats appeared he looked on. When the rats were in a feeding frenzy he opened the window and clapped his hands together, two hands clapping. The rats fell into the containers.

The rats, who deserved respect, were consigned to the great wheel. The containers were emptied in the hedgerows.