I hate litter. Could be I am just a middle aged white liberal, but I find litter offensive and it makes me m in the k (mal in the kop, as my boet says). Litter is one of the daily grinds of living in Woodstock. The wind howls. There is a little shop on every corner. Kids play and live in the streets and that’s where they throw the packets and wrappers and stompies and plastic bottles. The garbage collectors seem to be more careless in our area, leaving stuff that doesn’t make it onto the truck or spills out of the bins when they move. Open land is used to dump on.

Last week I got a bee in my bonnet about the litter and rubbish in our short little street, and on a whim I sent a note out to the 20 odd houses in the road telling them I would be cleaning the street today, would be providing black bags and gloves, and would love it if people joined me.

10 year old Seth was the first to start with me at 9am and we were soon joined by Marion and Abie, and Seth’s dad and Big Friendly. In two hours we picked up all the trash, pulled out the weeds, cleaned up in front of the abandoned plot, scraped, swept, bagged and piled. I had organised with Solid Waste to swing by and collect the bags, and yep, they did.

And we are all so proud. How cool?