Rag and Bone Man
Rubbish is never far from the headlines. Too much of it. Wheelie bins or not? Black sacks (can cause cancer). Monthly v weekly collections (have caused near riots). Ever since humans started generating waste, the thorny issue of what to do with it has arisen. With landfill sites full to overflowing, recycling has become a matter of some urgency. Although where it ends up is something of an issue too.
When Rock House was built, the smarter houses in the town would have had organised ash-pits: holes into which ash was dumped alongside any household waste. However, most people just dumped their rubbish on the streets (this technique continues to be popular with lazy residents).
Yet despite the lack of any formalised collection services, we once recycled upwards of 80% of our output, a fact attributed to an underclass who lived off the spoils of others, namely the ‘rag and bone men’. The most famous of rag and bone men, Harry H Corbett, aka Harold Steptoe, died of a heart attack in Hastings in 1982 and is buried in the churchyard at neighbouring Penhurst.
History doesn’t relate what he was doing at the time, but perhaps he just keeled over from the sheer boredom of having fans yell ‘HAROLD!’ at him wherever he went.
The bone-picker and rag-gatherer as he was originally known, lived a life on the very borders of society, armed only with a greasy bag and stick with hook for the purposes of turning over the rubbish heaps in search of anything salvageable or saleable.
It wasn’t until the late 19th century that they acquired a cart and horse (who can forget Steptoe’s trusty steed Hercules?) and were able to cover longer distances and larger loads. As a child in London I have distinct memories of their rousing call for ‘any old iron’ and the mesmerising clip-clop of hoofs on tarmac. That old-fashioned system has now been replaced with plastic recycling boxes, with Hastings council calling for a renewed attack on glass waste that will get recycling rates up to 50%. Sadly the neighbours and I will not be taking part. As a helpful email from Dan at the waste department says: ‘Currently Exmouth Place has not been included on the glass recycling scheme.’ Come back Hercules.
Next week: Shuttered.
When Rock House was built, the smarter houses in the town would have had organised ash-pits: holes into which ash was dumped alongside any household waste. However, most people just dumped their rubbish on the streets (this technique continues to be popular with lazy residents).
Yet despite the lack of any formalised collection services, we once recycled upwards of 80% of our output, a fact attributed to an underclass who lived off the spoils of others, namely the ‘rag and bone men’. The most famous of rag and bone men, Harry H Corbett, aka Harold Steptoe, died of a heart attack in Hastings in 1982 and is buried in the churchyard at neighbouring Penhurst.
History doesn’t relate what he was doing at the time, but perhaps he just keeled over from the sheer boredom of having fans yell ‘HAROLD!’ at him wherever he went.
The bone-picker and rag-gatherer as he was originally known, lived a life on the very borders of society, armed only with a greasy bag and stick with hook for the purposes of turning over the rubbish heaps in search of anything salvageable or saleable.
It wasn’t until the late 19th century that they acquired a cart and horse (who can forget Steptoe’s trusty steed Hercules?) and were able to cover longer distances and larger loads. As a child in London I have distinct memories of their rousing call for ‘any old iron’ and the mesmerising clip-clop of hoofs on tarmac. That old-fashioned system has now been replaced with plastic recycling boxes, with Hastings council calling for a renewed attack on glass waste that will get recycling rates up to 50%. Sadly the neighbours and I will not be taking part. As a helpful email from Dan at the waste department says: ‘Currently Exmouth Place has not been included on the glass recycling scheme.’ Come back Hercules.
Next week: Shuttered.