Cooking rubbish

It was the recycling open day at the AmeyCespa recycling plant just outside Cambridge, so I went along to have a look. I've always wanted to see what happens to our rubbish  and this is the plant that pocesses it.

From the road all you can see is a large green hangar. And no sign of any rubbish as you drive in and park in a large (clean) field. But as soon as you get near the hangar, a thick, clinging, undefinably unpleasant smell hangs all over.

Inside the main rubbish decomposition hall

Inside the huge hangar was a vast flat mass of rubbish the size of a football field, with high speed conveyor belts bringing more rubbish to one end. I could see the occasional recognizable object, and even some flashing lights from a toy zip past the viewing gallery.

The smell came from the decomposing rubbish - it is kept wet with sprays and heated up so that it rots faster. Behind the thick glass windows of the viewing gallery the smell is mildly unpleasant, but to go into the main hall you have to wear breathing apparatus to filter the fumes. It takes about 4-6 weeks for the rubbish to get from one end to the other of this huge contraption, and by the time it gets to the other end, it's reduced by about 2/3 and is ready to go to landfill.

There were some very strange objects on display that had been fished out of the garbage before getting stuck in the machinery including a large fire extinguishers and a huge anchor.

The landfill site

John Powley presenting prizes for Ready Steady Cook

There was a display of archaeological finds from the site which showed that around the time of the Romans, the place had been used as a settlement with - appropriately - a large rubbish pit.

The bus tour of the site took about 40 minutes (it's huge) and included views of mountains of crisp packets (un-recyclable at the moment), a deodorizing area (to protect local houses), and miles of tangled video tape which seems to get everywhere.



Finally,  I had time to look around the marquees, at all the community groups and council recycling displays. There were recycled wood projects,  and recycled paint (for community groups to use), and tips for reducing food waste. At one end a cooking stand was set up. Before I knew it, I was co-opted into a Ready, Steady Cook competition. The other lady made risotto and omelet, while I made leek and potato soup and ratatouille with rice. We each said that the others' dishes were delicious, but the judge, Leader of Cambridgeshire Council, Councillor John Powley, decided that my leek and potato soup was the winner. My prize was a goodie bag of gadgets, and a nice apron. The food was eaten by the Council staff who'd organised the competition. The official photographer took lots of pictures and I went home promising myself that next time I visit a rubbish plant, I'll be sure to have a shower in the morning and wear smarter clothes.

Allotment

I've got an allotment. It's not an official one - so there are few rules, and no water supply at all. The rules are things like 'Always ask T. before you start a bonfine'; 'Don't lock your shed, it will only get broken in to'; 'Just mark the land you want with posts and string - that means it's yours'.

There is some amazing recycling going on. Plastic water bottles and pallets are used everywhere in various forms. Tennis nets are used to protect courgettes and squash from insatiable muntjac deer; green beans grow up goal netting; broken ladders are cucumber frames; old metal sport lockers are ivy-covered tool stores; cast iron baths store precious rain water; and blue plastic lime-juice barrels now serve as water butts.

My ambition is to have a few vegetables surrounded by a picnic area, a barbequeue pit, a hammock, and a beach-hut/shed worthy of Southwold with tea facilities, wicker chairs, and a front porch. I'm thinking of painting it blue and white. Hopefully I'll get the paint from Freecycle, where I got the corrugated iron sheets for the roof.

Fellow gardeners in neighbouring plots have been helpful with good advice. My favourite so far is: "You can never have enough chicken wire."