I’m a man of words – that’s my stock in trade and has been for many years. As an example, I prefer “hirsute” above “hairy”, and “belligerent” above “arsey”, although there’s a place for both.
So it’s always a nice surprise to come across a word I’ve never used before, let alone even seen. However, it’s a huge shock when this word was used on my local council’s website.
Yup, I was looking for info on recycling collection in the London Borough of Bromley, where I’m about to move to and came across this fantastic sentence:
“Your waste will not be collected if it is not placed at the edge of curtilage”
Eh? I had to stop and think for a second. “Edge of curtilage” – what the hell does that mean?
Fortunately, Bromley Council has anticipated my confusion and added this helpful explanation.
“Your curtilage is the area of land within your boundary surrounding your property. The edge of your curtilage is on your land at the front within arms’ reach of the pavement but not on it.”
So, basically, they mean the edge of your property, or boundary, or even garden or yard. So why not say that? I’m all for expanding the use of our rich language, but not on a council website. For goodness sake, talk in plain English and not some legal mumbo-jumbo.
I know we live in litigious times, but I’m sure no-one will sue their local council for lack of curtilage explanation, will they?
I’m not obsessed by recycling (see previous entry), but sometimes I find it tough to understand what’s so difficult about it.
Most councils give you a box or bags in which to put your bottles, paper, plastic, cans, whatever and they then collect every week or two from outside your front door.
I live in a coach house, that is attached to a building made into flats and I just don’t get it when people like my neighbour consistently getd rid of their bottles in the rubbish bin. I mean, why? How tough is it to put them in an orange bag? Can you seriously not have heard or read how important it is to recycle stuff?
I could assume something sweeping like, “he’s too young to understand it”, but the guy’s in his mid-20s and owns his flat, so he can hardly be accused of lack of responsibility.
What’s more irritating is that the orange recycling bags are put in the entrance hall every week before collection… and he has to walk past them to get to his front door.
I know, I should get a life and start worrying about other more important things… but hey, isn’t the environment important enough?
Everywhere you look at the moment, green issues abound. Recycle this, cut down on that, don’t buy the other.
I’m sure most of us try to “do our bit”, which in many cases, is probably never enough, but today I read a story that truly proves how much you can do, if you put your heart, body and soul into the environment.
A woman in Kent was so keen to recycle that she ended up in the bin herself and fire crews actually required hydraulic cutting gear to get her out of the clothes bin.
Traumatic experience that it was, I imagine that the recycling centre would have rejected her on two grounds:
1) Bone and gristle doesn’t compost well enough
2) She didn’t put herself into a sealed plastic bag!
