WHY I LOVE BIN DAY

Molly Gunn, Editor - 7 Dec 23

The picture on the front is Lockdown 2020. The tagline: “When the bins go out more than we do.” It was taken at my old house, where our retired neighbour, John, used to put his bins out on a Thursday afternoon ahead of the Friday collection. Me and Tom thought John was a bit keen. We did the normal thing: a mad dash in our PJs at 5.45am. It took a couple of years before we realised John was onto something. We decided to copy John. His bins went out and ours followed suit. It was a magical system… until John went on holiday. ‘Bin Day’ is a funny part of the British psyche, isn’t it? It bears importance. A talking point. I used to take the micky out of, I’d roll my eyes at ‘Bin Day chat.’ People who commented that it was Bin Day, didn’t have much going on in their lives, how boring. So it’s funny that now, my 46 year old self, wakes most Thursdays with a sense of excitement. I often proclaim, “It’s Bin Day today!” in an exuberant tone, as if it was Christmas. To this, my son looks at me with confusement (a mix of confusion and amusement). Bin Day isn’t even on a Thursday, it’s a Friday morning – but like John – I’ve realised early organisation is key! It’s my personal mission to put bins out before dark. I take great pride in it, ensuring recycling is in the correct containers. Ensuring we don’t miss Black Bin Day, a very special occasion, which only happens every 3 weeks! In the summer I have been known to take out a glass of wine out while I sort recycling on the deck. If anyone passes by I say, “Bin Day!” in a weird Truman Show-like tone. So why this change of heart? I’ve realised there are hidden depths to Bin Day. Firstly, it brings order to an otherwise chaotic life. My family home is messy and confusing. Bin Day however is regular as clockwork, and it promises to take away some of that mess from my life. It is weekly redemption. A regular declutter. (Eco footnote: I have to sidestep – sorry – the eco implications of where stuff goes after it leaves my house. Yes, I do try to reduce waste generally). The weekly recycling collection brings order to chaos. It’s something I can control. When money is hard to earn, and children are begging for things, and my cat is weeing on the mat again, the neatness of Bin Day saves me! Secondly, there’s the feeling that Bin Day brings a clean slate. As if it’s one of those Etch A Sketch’s that has been wiped clean, ready to go again. After bins are collected, I start Friday with a  spring in my step. Not only it’s the weekend, but – look! – I have empty recycling containers, all clean and new in my kitchen. Huzzah! I can now drink wine and not feel self-loathing at the overwhelming number of empties in the black glass recycling box. (Don’t delve too deep into that sentence, I’m not saying my Bin Day-love is all healthy). Then thirdly, and this is actually the most important point: Bin Day signifies that society is working. I’ve long mused that bin collections would be the first thing to falter should there be an apocalypse (along with my contact-lense subscription). My suspicions were confirmed, watching from afar what’s happening in apocalyptic Gaza, in early reports in the weeks after 7th October, eyewitnesses described the build up of rubbish. The lack of rubbish collection, was an aside to the war, but an omnipresent filth to people there. Rubbish rotting in the street brings not only stench but disease. It’s gross, but it’s also deadly. It’s a marker that society has broken down. But now people in Gaza, aren’t even complaining about the rubbish. They don’t have homes in which to produce rubbish. It’s why I am holding Bin Day dear. I’m lucky to have it. I’m not ashamed to say, I’ll see you on the WhatsApp Bin Day chat soon.

Molly Gunn, Editor

Molly Gunn is the founder and editor of Selfish Mother, a site she created for like-minded women in 2013. Molly has been a journalist for over 15 years, starting out working on fashion desks at The Guardian, The Telegraph & ES Magazine before going freelance in 2006 to write for quality publications. She now edits Selfish Mother, sells #GoodTees to raise funds for charity, & writes freelance for Red Magazine and The Sunday Telegraph's Stella. Molly is mother to Rafferty, 6, Fox, 4, and baby Liberty. She is married to Tom aka music producer Tee Mango and founder of Millionhands. They live in Bruton, Somerset.

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