Litter-picking is one of those fatigues that children in school resent. One thing to pick up your own litter, another when it comes to other people’s. I try not to be resentful when I do my turn – turning scraps of paper, drinks bottles and coffee cups instead of stones on the beach. But it’s more difficult when it comes to cigarette ends and packets. (GRRRR!)
I tell myself the parable about the son who didn’t want to do what his father asked, while the other just made promises – which one did his father’s will?
But a little reward came my way today. Shining in a ray of winter sun, a very early snowdrop.
And surely better to do the job with a degree of anger than not at all?