If you live in Perth I have been in your garden. Not the odd garden, every one.
Letham, Burghmuir, North Muirton, Kinnoull, Carse of Gowrie. There’s not a garden path I do not know.
I used to be a binman in the days before wheelie bins. Heavy work, hoisting metal bins, throwing refuse sacks hour after hour. And we would go in to gardens to carry out bins.
You may have seen our crew in the early 1980s, young guys riding shotgun on the back of a yellow bin motor.What you may not have realised is we were in training for a world record.
We did break the record and this month marks its 30th anniversary. You won’t find it in any record books. It was a set on the wrong side of the tracks. The only documentary evidence is a written warning I received from Perth and Kinross District Council.
But we all knew we had become binlore legends. We had set the fastest time to complete a bin round in Perth and Kinross.
The first thing any new binman is told is, if you see a time and motion man, slow down.
Weeks before I joined, the time and motion people had walked with the binmen and set the rounds based on their calculations.
Management and unions agreed to the rounds and then at some point, the magic words were sprinkled. Task and finish. If we did the work, we could go home.
This sparked a depot arms race. Drivers and senior loaders were picking crew like Premier League managers. I got signed by Archie and Tubby’s crew, the Manchester United of Friarton depot.
Six hours of running and loading then you were expected to train after work. We had to trim the times because most binmen had other jobs to go to.One even owned a fishing beat.
But there was a touch of mischief in the crew leaders and a wish to outsmart management.
That’s why the record attempt was hatched.
We wanted to crack North Muirton in three hours. Open plan gardens, bin sheds at the front. Achievable. We studied the workflow and found a blockage. We needed the sacks on the street early so maximum resources could be directed at loading.
So I was tasked with pulling out from 7am, half an hour before my start time.
We did it. Under three hours. I was reported for starting early and carpeted but that did not dull the sense of achievement.
The bins were a harmonious place to work. The only industrial unrest was over the introduction of donkey jackets with orange flashes on the shoulders. I arrived at the depot one morning to find a stand-off between workers and gaffers.
Cruicky led the charge on behalf of the men and told management, “We’re no having it. We cannae wear these to the dancing.”
Now, if you live in West Perthshire, Stirling, Angus, Kincardineshire, Dundee, Clackmannanshire or Fife, I have been in your garden too. But that is just because old habits die hard.