My favourite dog walk, a view out over the Atlantic ocean leading into the Bristol Channel. Probably my dog’s favourite too, given the high rabbit and small mammal population, needing both sniffing out then chasing. On a good day you can see out to sea and the island of Lundy on the horizon. But today isn’t a good day, so you can’t even see the sea, let alone the island of Lundy.
These are the ruins of a shelter building of some sort, built in a traditional dry wall construction, for livestock to huddle in when the rain is horizontal and the wind can blow you off your hooves. The sort of day that, when off for the daily walk, I tell my wife I’m just going out to fly the dog.
It also houses a Lucozade bottle.
This bottle weighs about 4 grams, yet the human that finished the contents (when the bottle was at its heaviest) couldn’t be bothered to carry it back to wherever they came from to be here. But not only that, the ‘disposal’ of this bottle, wedged into a couple of stones on a dry wall, must have been more considered than the simple drop it or throw it into a hedge that is more commonly observed.
“I have finished my drink. I will wedge the empty bottle into this wall. This way, somehow, in my tiny brain, I consider this to be less obviously careless than simply tossing the bottle into a hedge. Observe how I am carefully making sure that it is forced in between two stones in this wall, where people will be stopping to admire the view. I will do this consciously and with some effort applied, I am thinking this through, deliberately, to make sure it is stuck in there and not liable to just be blown away or washed out, because it then would become common litter… and I am obviously better than that… some sort of litter fairy will happen by and clear it up I expect…”
Yeah, OK, they were right on that score, I took it home and put it in the proper recycling bin.
And this is, mostly, why humanity is doomed. There are too many of them that think like this. Use what you want, let someone else clear up after you.