I’ve been forgetting to put the rubbish out recently, which is a real pain in the proverbial.  The recycling is easy – everyone else in Sainte-Foy-La-Grande put their blue and green cartons outside their front doors on Monday afternoons, which is a very helpful reminder for those, such as ourselves, who aren’t accustomed to the relative luxury of having rubbish collected door-to-door.  We even had a discussion just yesterday or the day before about putting the rubbish out, but that failed to jog the memory later in the day.

So there I was this morning stepping, soaking wet, from the shower when I heard the distinctive sound of the rubbish lorry making its way down the street and the accompanying sounds of bins being moved around.  “Blast!” I thought (actually it was a little more colourful than that) – I’d forgotten to put the bin out on Sunday night too and, with renters at  Les Terraces this week, I couldn’t possibly miss another collection.

I grabbed my towel and wrapped it round me as I tried to thunder quietly down the stairs, grasping the keys for the front door in my teeth as I went.  I wrenched open the front door … the lorry had passed us already.  “Monsieur?” I called optimistically as I clutched the towel across my chest.  I ducked inside and pulled the wheelie bin from its place and wrangled it through the front door – towel now gripped between my teeth (thank goodness I don’t have to worry about dentures!).  M. le éboueur gallantly smiled as he helped me with the bin and I apologised “Désolé – J’ai oublié.”

I swiftly swung the front door closed to hide my embarrassment and hurtled back upstairs and groaned as I caught sight of myself in the mirror – surely the dustman hadn’t been smiling, just trying hard to stifle his laughter.  Oh hell!  I’ve taken steps to avoid this happening in the future by programming my phone to remind me the night the rubbish needs to be put out.  Life will be less exciting, but I’ll save myself a few blushes in the process, I hope!