A fortnight ago I fell in love with Freecycle.org. I offered something of antique value for free and after an awkward night of the taker changing collection times to suit herself then at ten pm the item was taken away. It was an huge item so I was happy to see the back of it and if I’d wanted some money for it it could have been collection only on Ebay which is sometimes a nightmare. It went to another home for free. Job done.
This week I offered up to four items at a time , dealt with all the ensuing emails as people showed interest, kept extremely polite and tolerant, generous and community-loving and logged people’s user names against their requests so I’d keep on top, gave myself anxiety heart-beats beating traffic to reach home in time for punters to collect at the times they desired. One guy used my email to send me his business details and a couple of other time-wasters said they were interested and that was that.
What a waste of my time and energy. So far out of six “takers”, only one has collected as promised.
I have tried to sell them on Ebay but the bidding prices don’t warrant the drag of finding a post office to do the parcelling up and sending out. I don’t want them and can’t be asked dragging stuff to the charity shops. My love of humanity prevents me chucking stuff in the refuse bin. So all the items that weren’t collected tonight are left on my front yard. There’s nothing for the metal-scavengers and I hope the Romanian trolley-trundler doesn’t open and send askew all the green bag contents in her search for that size 18 blouse or winkle-pickers for her husband.
Years ago I made a silly mistake and sent my aged mother beautiful display plates showing Lancaster Bombers and Churchill. I’d packaged them up in old round biscuit tins. Her carer saw only old tins and, inside them, newspaper packaging. In her efficiency, she then left the supposed rubbish out for the refuse collectors. I paid good cash for those plates as you can imagine. The dustbin man would have been happy.
I got rid of my upright iron piano. The refuse lot won’t take pianos so I went to the services via Kier of a re-homing outfit in Tottenham. What an experience that was. The collection staff were untrained and un-motivated. That piano suffered before it left my house and the guys even damaged my door. When I said something the bossman threatened to bring the piano back in. I ran to my neighbour.
So what I thought last month was the bees’ knees is merely an hedgehog’s arse.