View from Above

After two years in my top-floor flat, I now feel settled, despite my initial reservations about living so high up. During the summer months, the communal gardens below are a vibrant joy, a colorful tapestry of flowers and shrubs bathed in sunshine. Winter, however, brings a a different perspective.
The endless rows of double-glazed windows on the surrounding retirement flats become more prominent, and somewhat disturbingly, so do the wheelie bins lined up against the opposite brick wall. At the other end, a row of neatly arranged parking bays completes the scene.

I’ve spent a  lot of time observing these two areas from my comfortable armchair (well, I have little else to occupy my time). It’s become clear that these seemingly mundane facilities can be a source of rowdy conflict. I’ve witnessed confrontations with shouting and arm-waving anger. Some residents seem to accumulate more rubbish than others and, with a shifty glance around, surreptitiously dump their excess into someone else’s bin—it’s always the same culprits. I’ve been tempted to open the window and yell, “Oy! That’s not your rubbish bin!” but good sense prevails, and I remain silent. However, heaven help any intruder who ventures into the car bays.

It occurs to me that we’re not so different from the seagulls up here, screeching and squawking over food scraps and territory. In fact, all species on Earth seem to face the same struggles. They’ll fight to the death for territory and ownership. Russia and Ukraine, Israel and Palestine—these are prime examples of the human ailment. Hundreds of thousands of young men are persuaded to sacrifice their lives to fulfill the desires of some crackpot leader
Intent on increasing his power base. Imprisonment or worse is used to enforce compliance.

Of course, at my age, I probably shouldn’t dwell on such matters. There’s nothing I can do, anyway. These wheelie bin disputes fall into the same category. It’s none of my business; I should leave well alone. However, my avid interest in the wheelie bins is a touch disturbing and makes me think I need to broaden my interests and take up a hobby.

Then again, I am in the middle of decluttering. I would like to dump all my rubbish into these bins. But my old fashioned sense of decency prevents me from doing so. The cartoon above projects my gloomy thoughts about this view in the future when umpteen million homes start filling the green belt. I sense there will be plenty of trouble ahead.

Fortunately summer is on its way .The sun will shine and I will forget all about car spaces and wheelie bins. This drab view will be largely hidden by flowering shrubs, lawn and flower beds until next winter. I can pull up a deck chair and let my mind wander down some other avenue.