Bottles

There’s a piece of marshland I regularly trespass on. It’s between a river and a railway and accessible only by climbing down a bridge. That means it’s a haven for wildlife as it’s uninterrupted by people and dogs. I love seeing the rabbits there and the birds are free to nest. There’s the occasional roosting Sparrowhawk, safe from interruption, and a Buzzard’s nest, although this year it’s unoccupied.

The only problem is that the land floods and with the floods come plastic bottles. Hundreds of them.

Plastic Waste - The Hall of Einar - photograph (c) David Bailey (not the)

The plastic comes and it never leaves, caught by the reeds on the marsh. I want to clear it of this plastic rubbish but it’ll take more than just me. Me and whose army, I wonder? I need to do some ringing around of people who don’t mind a bit of clearing and aren’t averse to a bit of trespass. And who don’t mind climbing down a bridge.

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