I suspect a neighbour of befouling my recycling bin. The only option is to get petty

I used to fancy myself as a binfluencer, the first mover on bin night, leading the way and signalling to the neighbourhood what colour bin they should be wheeling out this week.

But all that changed one morning a few years back as I left for work and went to pop an empty cereal box into my yellow-lidded recycle bin. I was shocked to see a half-drunk bottle of chardonnay (who wastes good wine?) and a shopping bag containing a shoebox with worn stilettos. Sneaked into my bin in the dead of night.

I soon landed on a list of suspects. Eliminating elderly neighbours who had graduated to sensible shoes, and the tradies renting across the road – unless they were cross dressers – I was fairly sure I knew the culprit.

In my head, I dumped the items on their verandah but in truth I placed them in the right bins and just added it to my mental list of grievances about their selfish parking and generally up-themselves demeanour. My husband rolled his eyes.

While I’m an occasional bin fairy, reciprocating with neighbours to wheel bins back in after they are emptied, my bins now go out at the latest possible time.

I know. It’s petty. Each household pays rates and what does it matter? But for some of us it does matter. We care about our consumption, weighing up packaging and ability to recycle or reuse said packaging in our buying choices. It’s one thing sorting your items, but contamination is a huge problem. If someone drops their doggy do-do bag in my yellow recycling everything turns to poo, literally. (Yes. It has happened and in my Food Organics and Garden Organics, FOGO, bin too).

We sort our waste across the bins and take advantage of programs to recycle tablet blister packs, E-waste, globes, pet food pouches, plastic plant pots, old towels to the vet and much more.

I know it sounds like a lot of work, but it isn’t really. Many European countries, according to the World Population Review, have very high rates of recycling due to strong policy, public engagement, product stewardship and infrastructure to avoid having to burn or bury waste.

I’ve landed on a system and organise drop-offs of recyclables to coincide with other activities. I do realise when I place an item in a recycling bin it is a leap of faith. RedCycle soft plastics, anyone?

With nearly 540 municipal councils across Australia and 79 in Victoria, post the Jeff Kennett 1992 amalgamations, and 128 in NSW, there’s a range of different waste collection programs.

While my inner Melbourne council still has weekly rubbish or red-lidded bin collections, many of the councils next to me have fortnightly waste collection. This has turned into a state election issue with the Liberal opposition pledging weekly waste collection.

I think I could easily manage fortnightly because I look for alternative places to get rid of waste, but I realise it is different for everyone, depending on their age and stage. Festering nappies, incontinence and medical waste products are often cited by those opposed to fortnightly collections. For others, full bins are just laziness. I visited a FOGO recycler and was shocked to see nappies, plastic and other rubbish being fished out on a conveyor belt. Real people have to do this job.

My council, as I am sure others do, slaps stickers on bins with wrong items to shame residents. I see recidivist offenders. I’m embarrassed for them. I wonder if it’s an innocent mistake, they don’t care or a neighbour has put the incorrect rubbish in their bin. To be fair, it takes some time for my husband and I to fix things when one of our kids dumps everything from their floordrobe in the rubbish bin.

My council was an early adopter of the now controversial purple glass bin, rolling them out in late 2020. I reckon they jumped the gun and should have waited until the Container Deposit Scheme started. Inner suburban dwellers like me don’t have the room to store four bins.

For some people storing these bins would be an access risk for emergency services in a fire not to mention accessibility on tight streets. I’m lucky to put mine out once every two months while the share house up the street puts their purple bin out every month.

I know people will say I have too much time on my hands. But we’re in a rubbish crisis. Our population is booming; landfill sites are filling fast and the cost to ratepayers of disposing of our rubbish is skyrocketing. If I can put some things in the right places, improving their chances of being recycled or upcycled it’s a small help.

I’ve got to admit, though, it’s been tough relinquishing my self-appointed role as a binfluencer. On Tuesday after bin day, as I walk to the tram, I see still full yellow and purple bins put out on the wrong week.

If only they had a binfluencer in the street to guide them.

Claire Heaney is a Melbourne writer.

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