Subtitled: Let’s see what kind of good rubbish the neighbours put on the footpath.
One of the prerequisites for being allowed to refer to yourself as a “Sydneysider” is to admit you’ve perused the neighbour’s rubbish [and then nicked it out of the heap when no one was looking]. Every 3 months or so, each suburb has a council clean up day. Everyone puts out the heaps of rubbish that won’t fit in the bin for pick up. Extra points granted for driving to another suburb to check out council clean up day offerings. More extra points awarded for nicking the treasure in full view of the neighbours. And everyone else oh so casually eyes their neighbours heap [“Ooooh, ‘at’s a lurverly piece of filth Dennis”] and makes big plans for nicking it when no one is looking.
Sunday we put out on the footpath an old washing machine The washing machine was in working order, if you consider a spin cycle so robust it can tie a pair of blue jeans into knots Houdini couldn’t get out of in working order.
Fifteen minutes later, as Mungo and I were enjoying a “nice cuppa tea” we heard a rattle.
Mungo: “Is there someone in the yard?”
Me: Looking out the window “No:.
Later yet we went outside to find that someone had driven by and carefully removed the electronic control panel.
A carefully placed ancient cassette player [including a really crap recording of a Mozart piano concerto which had as much artistic credibility as “Richard Clayderman mimes the 1812 Overture” before it turned to hiss] and an even more ancient radio tuner lasted at least two hours.
Tonight when Mungo got home, the washing machine was gone.