By Alida Robey
Composting was an inherent part of how we lived when I was growing up – nothing was wasted. Food scraps went to the chickens, kitchen and garden waste to one of several compost heaps and leaves were piled into a pit for future leaf-mould.
Today, I live in a flat with a small decked courtyard. I have access to five compost bins in an area of communal gardens in Clifton (Bristol, UK); this means with almost no effort at all the only rubbish I produce is recycling and an occasional black bag of non-recycleable inorganic waste. I don’t even have to keep a compost bin at home. And still each week along my road I see quantities of black bags destined for landfill spilling out onto the pavement with fruit and veg and greenery. Given the years I have spent trying to coax friends and neighbours in different locations to compost, this scene is a heart-rending weekly reminder of my lack of success in this personal campaign!
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