We heard someone shouting outside. There was a pause whilst Mr TLC and I exchanged surprised glances.
“I thought that was…”
“It can’t be, can it?”
It seemed so unlikely, but being a pair nosey chuffs we had to look. So we peered out of the window and there they were, a sight we haven’t seen in years: a pair of rag and bone men (except that being 2008 they probably call themselves scrap metal merchants). No Hercules pulling a cart of course, just two guys in a white van shouting “Any old iron,” as they crawled down the road.
I’m not sure that it’s a lucrative line of work though; absolutely no-one was rushing out to offload their old mangles or disused tin baths and and even the skip opposite our house proved unrewarding.
Times change don’t they? When I was a kid, everyone was happy to offload their old junk to any passing man with a cart, barrow or van, but now we all just twitch the curtains and peer suspiciously at them. Of course, it could just be that given the large number of skips that have graced our street in recent months, no one has any old iron left to offer up.