Tea and Biscuits

My sequel to Bound by an Oath is in the works. The Lesson of the Ravens is being edited as I write. But meanwhile, here are some thoughts of my daily walk.

Today is garbage day in our neighborhood and as I walked around, I tried not to be judgmental about what people were throwing out. I did say “tried”.

Recycling is not very prevalent in this part of the world, and re-using is even less common. I saw a large cardboard box set beside the trash bin. I’m trying not to judge but why couldn’t that have been broken down and recycled? In truth, it was probably full of non-biodegradable packing materials. I could go on a rant about that state of affairs but I’m still trying not to judge.

Next up was a smaller gas grill for use on a patio. We have the exact same grill which just last week we took over to our son-in-law to temporarily replace their much larger and fancier grill. Old Slopey, as our daughter named their grill because the legs on one side had rusted away, has been humanely laid to rest and dismembered for recycling. I said a prayer for the neighborhood twin to our grill to rest from its labors and walked on.

But the thing that made me question life the most was the portable toilet being delivered to a house where a deck is being built. Presumably the neighbors did not want contractors with dirty boots lumbering through their lovely house leaving a trail of mud. Fair enough. But it made me think of how contractors were treated in the house I grew up in, and in thousands of other houses back in the 50”s and 60”s in New Zealand. Contractors used the toilet inside our house. And then my mother offered them a cup of tea and some homemade biscuits. It was certainly a different world back then.

Does anybody still offer contractors a cup of something hot in the winter, or a glass of something cold in the summer?