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  • Dumpster Diving in the UK

    Below are the posts from our dumpster diving exploits in the UK. In England it's called "skipping", which half makes sense, but not really. The scene isn't as good as in Denmark, but it's much better than in Canada.

    24.08.2006: we've been dumpster diving in rugby before, last time we were in england, so there was no urge to run around late at night and get knived. we did have a very interesting conversation with a girl working the bread counter at sainsburys though, who told us the amazing life-cycle of sainsburys bread. the first day a loaf is made it sits by the bakery counter for people to buy fresh. on its second day it is sliced and put into a bag and placed on the shelf. if it's survived to its third day then it's marked down in price. on the forth day its only destination is the dumpster. intriguing. and counter to what i previously believed, sainsburys (or this one at least) doesn't use a trash compactor, just one huge dumpster that is accessible to anyone. what the fuck are you waiting for?

    it's a shame because it had never occurred to her that she could just take the bread for herself, or that anyone else might want to. i was hoping that she might start.

    and just to be complete, there was a sandwhich shop in town with its dumpster clearly visible from the street, that days unused baguettes poking up from it, tempting the rats and dumpster divers alike. or maybe it was just me.

    05.07.06: i wish we'd been in england two weeks ago. what with caburys recalling over a million chocolate bars. if would have been like easter all over again. i miss having that stockpile of chocolate for whenever i have the craving. "the levels are significantly below the standard that would be any health problem, but we are taking this measure as a precaution". waste as standard procedure and no one gets the chance to make the decision for themselves. but again, my opinion doesn't count because i'm not willing to buy from cadburys-schweppes anyway (note, coca cola only owns their soft drink brands in around a 100 countries, not their chocolate, if that makes a difference).

    28.03.06: me and julie spent the weekend in middle england, and obviously we had to go taste the english dumpsters (something i should have done years ago). we visited a rather nice kwiksave, a pathetic lidl, and our local haunt netto. but not quite in that order.

    we headed straight for the netto (of course) but their dumpster stank of who knows what evils. it was barely a good introduction to dumpster diving for my vaguely willing friends. on another day this dumpster might be perfect, tucked away nicely around the back of the store and with a surprising lack of security and surveillance.

    just across the road is a multi-storey carpark that's home to a nice selection of bins from the shopping centre it serves. here is where we found the juice, and they'd even left the lights on for us so we could see what we were doing. we then proceeded to carry a huge clear plastic bin bag around town containing: down one side street we found an abomination of a pub, i'd say it's potentially the asshole of rugby if i didn't know better. the asshole of rugby is clearly brownsover mr shaw rugby school.. fuck it. i was heading for another set of bins belonging to the shopping centre when one of the two bouncers (and you know how much we love bouncers) told us we weren't getting in. it was enough to set ben off on a tirade of abuse at the top of his voice. "but we really want to go in! the music sounds so awesome! you fat wankers!!" - whiskey bottle flailing. it was a proper rampage around town, but all other bins were empty of anything tasty or fun. i wish i'd carried on to those bins and given the bouncers something to wank about. i felt like i was no longer in my own country and completely without responsiblity - also immune to local law. except, unless swigging whiskey out of a bottle on the strees is illegal (and then you can stick it up your bum) we didn't break any.

    lidl was the only other supermarket anywhere near my house and you'd think they wouldn't give two fucks about their bins. we trekked all the way down there to find absolutely nothing. not even a bad smell. although we did meet two guys coming back the hill carrying a construction barrier. there's your anti-social behaviour. then ben, again brandishing the bourbon, shouting at them to "put that back! they might need that!", while breaking into a run and covering his head. the big drunk irresponsible wuss.

    we took a shortcut across a field and got our shoes all covered in mud. and then passing the local gun shop i had to fight my urge to check their bins. it would have been funny. and i'd love to know what they actually sell these days. i imagine air guns and stuffed rabbits.

    my parents weren't too impressed with all the trash we bought home and most of it went into the compost bin - still better than where we found it. photo documentary courtesy of corey:

    the other great thing about my short stay in england was my nan had bought kitkats. i wont buy nestle, but i just feel rude if i tell my nan i can't eat her kitkats because they're unethical. when i tried to explain this too her (while munching the kitkat down) she just laughed. it's weird because a few nights previously i'd had a killer kitkat craving.

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