Waiting for the Skip.

During the few weeks spent in Bristle our nice new shiny car served as a skip. Although no official count was made, it must have made the journey to the local recycling depot (there's posh for you, we used to call it the dump) eight to ten times, each time being loaded from floor to roof with dis-assembled furniture and other miscellaneous rubbish, all neatly sorted into different categories of waste. By the end of it I was on first name terms with the staff at the centre.

Merlin was a little bemused by the goings on but was happy in the knowledge that there wasn't room for him in the car and anyway, they didn't have a suitable bin for him.

p.s. The trike didn't go either.