Friday, 9 December 2016

Broken stones...

You'll remember earlier in the week that I mentioned that I had been in a quarry for the morning.  This is one of the bonuses of being employed at Binland, as I get to see all these wonderful things which under normal circumstances would remain a complete mystery. 

I was looking forward to the quarry visit, as it meant that I could wear my jeans and walking boots all day as it was really muddy down there.  Oh joy - no tights, no hair styling, minimal make up and a free lunch.  It all sounded brilliant.  Naturally there was some hi-vis clothing necessary (orange so isn't my colour) and a hard hat.  I love wearing these as they iron out the curly rebellious bits of hair which refuse to lie flat.  This hat was rather tight, so I was expecting my hair to be poker straight on top by the end of the tour. 

Once everyone was there, the Quarry Manager donned an orange hi-vis onesie....

Can you hear the desire in my words?  I was speechless, and it dispelled any doubts as to what to buy the husband for Christmas.  I may have to take the legs up a little, otherwise he will be tripping over himself all the time, but at least everyone will see him do it.  From quite some distance I would imagine.

So the quarry tour was brilliant, but the most impressive thing is how we 'mend' the earth when all the gravel has been extracted.  Long sweeping fields of vibrant grass, and lakes filled with wildlife.  It made me very proud to be involved with something so positive.

Having stomped around in the mud for a few hours, it was time to head off to one of our other Depots to see what happens to all the stuff we throw away.  Another hard hat was on the cards, but this one was massive.  I did try and tighten it, but couldn't, so spent the next hour with it at a very rakish tilt. I caught sight of myself in a mirror as we walked through the plant, and to be honest I'm not sure how the hat was staying on.  It was at a 45 degree angle to my head, with the peak over my right ear.  I resembled Dizzee Rascal, and some quick adjustments were called for.  Of course, as the oldest person on the tour, I can only start to imagine what the younger boys thought.  I expect they thought that I was 'down and hip with the kids'....or perhaps not.

Standing on a platform watching the paper go one way and the cans another, I vowed that I would be more vigilant with what I threw away.  As I watched a half eaten packet of digestives pass me on a conveyor belt, I asked myself two questions.  Firstly, how could anyone think that they would be recyclable?  Most importantly though, who on earth leaves five digestives in a packet?  Not on my watch matey - there wouldn't be as much as a couple of crumbs left.  I did feel like I was in the middle of one of those documentaries that they used to show on Play School (though the round window and all that) but is was incredible to watch, and the packing machine with its rapid cling film wrapping would come in very handy at Christmas.

Heading back to the meeting room for a last session with the lovely ladies running the day, I was on my last 53 year old legs.  All that fresh air and a lovely lunch was pointing one way only...a little snooze.

I think I managed to stay awake for the last bit.  I'm just waiting for someone to tell me...
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