Swans and garbage

Staffan is at Water Street. When he woke up yesterday morning, there were three white swans and one black on the river.

We sit in an empty house each, in a limbo. All we have is a pot, two plates, two cups and two forks. Maybe he has a frying pan too. I don’t. I am a bit envious since he will be exploring the new place on his own. On the other hand, he will know where to shop for groceries.

So far, his main problem has been garbage. Yesterday was garbage collecting day at Water Street. There are four different garbage bins in the yard. He has received a five-page instruction on what goes into which bin and when it is collected. He has consulted his electronic dictionary about the difference between cardboard and carton. The dictionary says it is the same, but according to the instructions, they must go into different bins.

When we lived in California, Staffan wrote several columns for his newspaper about garbage collecting. The subscribers loved them! Regular foreign correspondents never write about garbage.

As to myself, I have just been to the dump with five huge garbage sacks. I hoped it was the last time, but I see there will be more. Unlike Staffan, I know what goes into which container.

PS for the really interested: read this.