the bin kids are feral.

they seemingly don’t belong to anyone. the most logical explanation is that they oozed out the mud on the banks of the canal many years ago and have made their nests there out of sheer laziness, not wanting to walk too far to find somewhere more suitable. their diet consists of poisonous berries, discarded energy drinks, grass, mud and plastic bags.

they come out during the evening, generally from about 4-6, regardless of the weather, to perform their rituals. potions are stirred in cauldrons (mud, blackberries and old bread are mashed together in a tin can); sacred dances and songs are performed (jumping up and down in a tree whilst screaming at the top of their lungs); feats of strength and bravery accomplished (riding down the hill in a grey wheelie bin with the rubbish emptied and the lid ripped off).

their clan name, the bin kids, was bestowed upon them for their tendency to raid bins. the recycling bins are a guaranteed source of quality materials, however the grey bins can carry good bounty in the case of households who don’t believe in disposing of waste correctly. the highlight of the bin kids’ ritual year is in July when the students leave and dodgy landlords simply empty entire houses into the alleyway. all objects are considered, however there are certain prized goods. a sturdy plastic tub is always in high demand, glass bottles provide ambiance in a den and discarded clothes become ceremonial wear. pieces of furniture are treasured until they’ve been smashed to smithereens and left to be cleared up by the council. occasionally turf wars break out, sticks are used as weapons, battle cries echo through the streets and the height advantage of being up a tree really comes into its own. whilst the rest of society goes about their lives, trudging to and from work along the canal without giving it a second thought, this group has seen its true potential and formed their own nation on its banks, living by their own rules and laws.

on a serious note, i had a very privileged childhood. i lived in a village, had a large garden and ready access to parks, fields and woodland on my doorstep. these children do not. their gardens are a 3m long slab of concrete with a pot plant if they’re lucky. their park is a small patch of grass at the top of the road. their woodland a single tree in the middle of said patch of grass. even this is more than a lot of children have. the never ending grind of capitalism has lead to a prioritisation of population density over quality of life. we’re fucked.

my access to nature was fundamental in shaping who i am today. it has taught me so much. i only now truly appreciate what i had growing up now that i live in the city. we were spoilt for choice of outdoor space and always had things to play with. granted, i was frequently chopping firewood as soon as i was strong enough to wield an axe (age 4). i would say it was irresponsible parenting however i only split my head open once, and my parents got a lot of good few of tonnes of kindling out of me over the years. i’d say that’s worth it. i had various dens and hiding spots, plenty of good materials for building whatever i wanted and essentially a whole village as a playground. the bin kids have to make do with what they’ve got. their resourcefulness is enviable, creating entire worlds with the rubbish thrown out by those living on the surrounding streets. sure, the alleyway gets a bit messy with them hurling stuff about, they blocking the canal towpath so cyclists have to dismount and the constant screaming can be a little grating. but at least they’re outside. at least they’re not glued to a screen. they’re using engaging their creativity, making connections, touching grass.

we could all learn a lot from the bin kids. mainly how to make a bobsled out of a wheelie bin.