I went out around my local streets on Wednesday evening to do a quick litter pick. At least, that's what I planned to do.

I had chosen Wednesday evening, as Wednesday morning is the day the household waste and recycling is collected on my street.

Despite the best efforts of our council waste collectors, they are no match for Welsh wind and rain, or seagulls. There was bound to be some debris escaping.

I soon came across a particular grubby pathway. It can be easy to feel bad about the state of the world (meant very literally here, or should that be litterally?) but when you can see the proof of your efforts it all becomes a bit easier.

I soon regretted trying to clean up an exposed bin bag placed optimistically next to a bin. It showed signs of a seagull assault. The bag turned out to be rather heavy with food, liquid and something heavy and large. But, nevertheless, I persisted. The street looks slightly better, at least.

The most interesting bit of trash I found was part of what looked like some coving, or maybe part of a fire place. How did it end up on a patch of grass?