It’s ten days now since I’ve waited and rung the environmental lot in Waltham Forest four times for a single now single soaking wet mattress to be removed from my front yard. The last I was told by the office supervisor was that she would send an email, send an email! ( Garlic bread?) to escalate the job. That meant there was a note allegedly and not in pencil saying that the job should be done within 24 hours. Oh do me a favour! Should? The word “would” is juggling for position.
That’s why Waltham Forest is a mattress borough. It isn’t a mattress borough entirely because there’s a transient society here: There’s actually an huge stagnant society doing the right thing.
On the corner of my road is a built corner protector, a piece of ‘street furniture’ (I know!) which is used daily as a prop for people’s bags of rubbish, broken umbrellas, old cots and mattresses, strewn and ripped clothes previously left out for AgeUK collectors and whoever trades in rags. One day the council truck came a-collecting and I asked why fly-tippers were being excused and money spent sending out trucks and men to gather and dispose of people’s domestic rubbish. Answer “Oh, it’s the foreigners, see. They don’t know about how to dispose of rubbish.” Well, not on my and their back yards then! By that logic only white British-born, you know the new ethnic minority, know how to get rid of rubbish.
Behind what was the Burwell Residential Estate off Lea Bridge Road on the border of Waltham Forest and Hackney is the disgusting mess that is Argall Industrial Village. Its name changes like the weather but I like “industrial village” because it is so not that.