In praise of fly-tipping

The pile of fly-tipping was dumped in the night as usual, right against the five bar gate. I arrived to feed the horses and found seven fridges and a pile of mattresses blocking the entrance to the field. I raised my eyes to heaven and said: ‘Thank you, God!’

The rotting mattresses and busted, filthy fridges, lying with their doors open, blocked almost the entire pull-in, the field gate and the stile.

I believe Nicholas van Hoogstraten once piled up a load of old fridges to block walkers from looking into his garden from a footpath. Well, maybe I know how he felt.

No rambler, no matter how many National Trust stickers he has in his car window, can park up to ramble around my horses and cause havoc with seven fridges piled against the gate.

By the way, I see the National Trust’s latest lavish TV advert depicts a silent stream with a caption suggesting we all need peace and quiet. Er, yes, but what peace and quiet have National Trust members allowed me to have for the past six months, as they run rampant through the Surrey countryside? None.

As the builder boyfriend and I stood among the fridges, two walkers marched past tutting their disapproval. One of them took out his phone and photographed the registration of our car.

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ said the BB, as they walked off, ‘all that came out of a Volvo.’

If the fly-tipping backlog is big enough, it will take the council a while to come and shift this lot.

I know Mayor Giuliani had a lot of success with his broken windows policy, keeping things so nice in New York neighbourhoods that even yobs didn’t want to drop litter. But I tend to the view that when you are dealing with the problems of Surrey, the best deterrent is to make the place look a right dump.