The vale of tears

I live in the Vale of the White Horse. We're proud of the odd abstract piece of ancient art carved in the hill above Uffington (home of Thomas Hughes and John Betjeman). But as I look out of my study window today, it's not that I see, but a double bend sign facing at right angles to the road into our garden. No use to man nor beast. It's been like that for months. And today, as they do every week, the dustmen have been and I can see the dustbin lying on its side, bang in the middle of the drive, and probably the greenbox lid is there as well. Every week it's the same, the dustbin, its lid, the green box or its lid, strategically thrown across our entrance, so that cars, postmen, or delivery vans either run them over or have to stop. And if you've been really alert you'll have realised that our entrance is on a blind bend. I don't know if it's some dustmen's code to hurl the bin rather than replace it and its lid at the side where they found it. It can't really take more time and effort. There was a time when I would go out and take them in, but it just ain't possible now. Perhaps dustmen could do with being given disability awareness training - or just common consideration. But thanks anyway for emptying our bins.