Now and again a skip is placed in your neighbourhood. There’s no way of telling when one will arrive, it just appears. An ugly, yellow, overflowing rhombus. Without fail, there will be a mirror in a skip. There always is.
This inevitably becomes the communal mirror. When I’m lying in bed I hear the footsteps of a 9 to 5 office woman in heels, knocking down the road, then an unnatural three second pause, before she carries on. This is her three seconds of shared mirror time.
It just goes to show that a mirror needn’t look pretty, a mirror’s job is to judge the prettiness of others and it can do that job from wherever it pleases. Including a skip erupting with brick-a-brack.
The skip on a whole, also becomes the communal bin: Finished an apple? Toss the core in the skip. Lucozade empty? Skip it. Football gone flat? Kick it one last time into the skip. The duration of a skip’s stay in the neighbourhood is unnerving. Cars avoid parking near it, parents warn their children to stay away but until it starts to develop that unique stench, it is the area’s guilty treasure.
I declare this day Skip Appreciation Day –
Skips, doing the hard work your wheeley bins can’t handle.