Between The Lines, by Diane Lines, January 30, 2015

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I’ve just returned from a visit to Fakenham. With apologies to anyone who lives in any of the pretty villages between there and King’s Lynn, I must say it is not the most exciting journey ever. Twenty odd miles seem to turn in to 60 – I end up glassy-eyed with boredom, as the whole road stretches forth unchanging (apart from the aforementioned villages).

What did catch my attention, though, was the rubbish.

For the first few miles, along the northern bypass and out towards Hillington, the left verge was littered with, well, litter.

Every conceivable type of litter – plastic bags, take-away cartons, tyres, old drums; you name it, it was there. To add insult to injury, the driver in front of me decided to chuck something out of his/her window. Unfortunately, I was not able to leap out of my car, pick up the said rubbish and chuck it back to its rightful owner. He or she had already sped off by the time the steam had ceased to churn from my ears. However, there was an occasion recently, in a supermarket car park in the vicinity of Lynn, when I did just that.

From a stationary car, an arm appeared from the drivers’ side, and deposited a large bundle of rubbish on to the tarmac. As I was parked just behind this inconsiderate oaf, I immediately jumped out, picked up the offending mess, and thrust it back a “Sorry, I think you’ve just dropped something,” I smiled. In his surprise, he took it back.

My pleasure at this was soon punctured, though, as I followed him out of the car park. He again threw it out of the window, backwards, no doubt in the hope that it would hit me!

I have, on several occasions, been walking behind someone who has blatantly dropped litter on the street. Again, I have picked it up and politely handed it back, my face a picture of innocence.

I was walking along a street in Lynn the other day, when I was caught in the crossfire of two ‘gentlemen’ outside a pub, having a shouted conversation. Every other word was not suitable to print.

As always when having my ears assailed by such obscenities, I spoke up. “Charming,” I remarked – “I love having to listen to this language”.

Again as always, the people around me all seemed to be suffering with a collective bout of eye and ear trouble.

For my part, I shall continue to challenge such behaviour – to me it is the proverbial red rag to a bull (although, given my size, perhaps a little terrier might be a better analogy). Please feel free to join me or not, but in the meantime I shall continue with my one small woman crusade against the pollution of our lovely environment.