Fly tipping in reverse... or why the Upsycho needs a van

Since moving into full time Upcycler mode, I have developed a distinct tic. Every time we drive past a skip, I practically give myself whiplash, trying to see if there's anything useful being chucked out. There often is, but sadly, I can't usually fit it into my car. I drive a great big monster of a Volvo S80, but its boot (trunk) is smaller than most and its back seat doesn't go flat. Both for the same reason: there is a built-in fridge in my car where the middle back seat should be. Go figure.

A while back, I was taking Jess for a walk, when I spotted a broken pine TV stand on top of the bins (trash cans) of a house not far from mine. I helped myself to it, popping a note through the letter box, in case they hadn't meant to chuck it out. It became two dog beds.

Two dog beds

In the summer, I took my Mom birding at a local sanctuary, and we spotted a pile of trash dumped by the side of the access road. It included two plastic crates that I was sure I could use, but my Mom was so horrified at the mere suggestion, that I didn't retrieve them. I'm so sorry I didn't, because they would have made great dog beds and plastic is a terrible product to send to landfill because it doesn't biodegrade.

Last month, for several days in a row, I saw a very nice armchair dumped by the side of the road on my way to work. Sadly, I just knew it wouldn't fit in the car. A real pity, because it was crying out for an Upsycho makeover. Eventually, the council must have removed it because it (and the rest of the junk dumped with it by a fly-tipper) disappeared.

Two weeks ago, I spotted a tea trolley, dumped on the exit ramp from the local Sainsbury. It was a blind bend with no safe place to stop, so I promised myself that I would go there on foot next time I visited the store, and retrieve it. Someone beat me to it. I hope it was someone who was able to do something useful with it.

Just a few days ago, I spotted a metal item sticking out of the undergrowth beside the A509. It was during rush hour traffic, so I had a full second or two to take in some sort of square section frame and circles. I went back yesterday to investigate.

Half buried in the undergrowth

I dragged it out of the undergrowth and across the road to my car. Such a simple sentence to type. Not such a simple thing to do. The road had been deserted when I crossed it empty handed. But now that I was trying to make it back across the road, carrying two unwieldy metal structures, everybody seemed to want to travel to or from Isham! Finally getting across the road to a clear patch, I laid them down to see what they were.

My hard-won treasures

I hadn't anticipated that right-angled assembly and I had no tools with me to take them apart. Getting them into the car was no mean feat.

Getting them into the car was no mean feat

My Volvo S80 was not designed to do duty as a workhorse

Getting them to my workshop was the easy bit. Once there, I stood them upright and inspected them. I was quite surprised at how tall they are. Over two metres. Perhaps 220cm. One section is bent (top left of the picture below), and there is some rust to remove. Other than that, the frames are in pretty good nick. Obviously that fabric will have to go, but I have plenty in the stash to replace it with.

Over 2m tall!

What I don't understand is why someone dumped them where they did. It can be a dangerous stretch of road. Plus, they could just as easily have taken them to our recycling plant, which has a special section for metal waste. People are weird.

Watch this space to see what becomes of my fly-tip-retrieval.

You know the expression, change is the only constant?

I started this blog to explore the journey in my life-after-learning. Okay, I haven't actually stopped learning - far from it. I hope I never do. But I'm no longer working as a learning professional.

Working as an upsycho was the 'next chapter' of the title. And that is fun, exciting, challenging, interesting...and not terribly lucrative.

But there are other kinds of new chapters in our lives, too.

Mr Namasi and I are fairly new inductees to the Empty Nest Club. The doors to the bedrooms that used to be occupied by our sons now remain (almost) permanently closed. The need for two fridges and an upright freezer has evaporated like the morning mist. The need for two bathrooms, likewise.

The company my husband works for is being wound down as we speak. So he's hitting the 'want ads' as they call them in the movies.

And finally, we're foreigners in a post-Brexit-referendum UK (he's a Swede and I'm some other kind of vegetable). At this stage it's unclear what that will mean for us in the medium-to-long term, and things seem to swing from ominous to business-as-usual on a daily basis.

All the factors taken together made us decide that it was time to up roots and downsize. So we've put our house on the market (here, in case you're interested). We think we'll probably rent for a while, until we know which way is up and how many beans make five. Maybe a nice rural cottage with a big outbuilding. Maybe a park home. Who knows?

So much shifting sand. So much uncertainty. And yet...

We've hit bumpy patches before, but our sons were still dependents, living at home. The stress and anxiety nearly did me in.This time it's different.

We've always had this little thing we say to each other when we set off somewhere on our own: just the twosies of us. And here we are, facing challenges on every side, just the twosies of us. And because it is just the two of us, it's so much less stressful. Our sons have jobs and homes. They'll be okay. If we wind up sleeping on camp beds in someone's garage for a few weeks, it'll be okay. If we have to move to the EU, it'll be okay. We'll figure it out. As we used to say in South Africa 'alles sal regkom' (it will all work out).

So your friendly upsycho is being uncharacteristically UN-psycho about the whole thing.

For now.

Thinking about value

Wall art from reclaimed wood

As an upcycler/restorer, I make pieces out of things that other people were planning to throw away. Pallets that were to be consigned to the fire, have become wall art, or dog beds. Items of furniture that had been damaged by damp, have gained a new lease on life.

Before

After

I am also commissioned to restore things. Patio sets for two different clients, a candelabra for another, tables, counter tops... all manner of things. Even a picture. Fret not, it's not the art work I'm restoring, or we might have a repeat of this!

Failed restoration

What I have discovered is that there is no predicting what has value to people.

In the book version of the Harry Potter series, there is a very touching insight into Neville Longbottom that wasn't included in the movies. Having been tortured by Voldemort's bunch, his parents reside permanently in a mental hospital. Neville and his grandmother visit them there. Each time, as they leave, Neville's mother presses a shiny sweet wrapper into his hand, with the air of someone bestowing a gift of great value. Neville treasures those wrappers - not for what they are, but for what they represent.

Just because an antique dealer would turn his/her nose up at a reproduction table with a plywood top, is not to say that it doesn't have great sentimental value to someone who grew up seeing that table every time they went to visit Granny and Grampa. Just because it would be cheaper to chuck out a little patio set and buy a new one made of PVC, doesn't mean that it isn't worth restoring to the person who bought it with their very first pay cheque. Just because a picture is a print in a damaged frame, doesn't mean it isn't the most precious piece of art to someone for whom it brings back memories of a late, much loved relative.

It is up to me to see these things through the eyes of the owners. The people to whom these things are so valuable that they are prepared to pay me (or someone like me) to do everything I can to extend its life and to make it look pretty again. It is up to me to handle them like the treasures they are.