When it’s foggy on the common and you just can’t see
And I womble into you and you womble into me
Just remember we’re so lucky to be wombling free
Weather: yeah, not bad
Mood: generally chipper
Word of the day: quisquilious – made of rubbish
I suspect a lot of people won’t understand that title, so for those people – the wombles are fluffy mole-like creatures who live in burrows. Their life’s work is to help the environment by collecting and recycling rubbish in creative ways. They reuse whatever junk they find. They are ace, although sadly the ongoing documentary about them ended many years ago.
Now, me, I’m akin to wombles. I have a tendency to find things. I hate waste, I love being a magpie and picking out treasures from the undergrowth, but I need to remember that not everyone feels the same way.
Today a resident using the gardens had left their fancy coffee mug on a table (it had a closeable lid and a satisfying mix of rubber and plastic.) I don’t really drink coffee, but Jessica does, so with my exciting find, I walked over to where she was working.
‘Jessica, do you want a fancy mug?’ I asked.
She gave me an appraising stare and said drily,
‘Did you buy it in a shop?’
‘Ah. No,’ I said.
‘Did you find it in the gardens?’ she said.
‘Ah, yes,’ I said.
‘Then, no,’ she replied gently.
Jessica is not a Womble.
I am a womble, not everyone is a womble. Remember this.