Nerve 22 - In praise of skipping

In Praise of Skipping

Several weeks back, whilst visiting family in Liverpool, I retrieved as much as I could 'sensibly' carry from the bin of a city centre outlet of an evening, being amongst other things several hundred premium fish fingers, one hundred or more Linda McCartney sausages, bags of Quorn; more of the same, as well as chicken, joints and pricey pizzas were reluctantly left, hopefully acquired later by some other delighted soul.

By James Donnelly
Image by Zoé S Hji-Christoforou

This being late on, the expedition cost me the last bus, and so a friend had to be roped in to taxi the booty from town, as it simply wasn't feasible to walk further with the sheer bulk of what I'd donkeyed to London road. We divvied up the following day, and spent half the morning cooking half of the food for him to freeze. One such winter-past three of us saw ourselves through the season with a fabulous cargo of spuds from this same bin, which has on previous occasions served somewhat as an occasional buffet, and I believe gatherings have been catered for by its bounty. I neglected to mention - almost none of what I waltzed off with in October was anywhere near out of date. The majority bearing Best Befores of late 2013, like as not they simply had too much stock selling too slowly, which they naturally have to replace with more of the same to satisfy suppliers, maintain high prices; plentiful free or reduced food, or customers coming to expect such, is out of the question; besides, it's cheaper for them to dump such cornucopia in landfill than to arrange its donation to those in need.

To the uninitiate, I refer to skipping, the retrieval (trespass and pilfering) of wasted goods, sacrificed to demands of capitalism, from industrial bins. Their disposal can be for various flimsy reasons, in the case of food and drink, being near or past their sell by date (or, as exampled earlier, not even close), separated from a multipack, damaged however slightly, or merely not pretty enough. In most instances the act of liberation will consist of nothing more demanding than visiting an accessible bin after closing hours, raising the lid and lifting out tied bags which are then opened up for plunder, replacing of unwanted articles and actual rubbish, and leaving the area as you found it, albeit with the sweeter air of a job well done, and making off with the loot. Typically a venture to, for instance, a frozen food chain's bin will earn one bread, vegetables, fruit, milk, butter, salad, meat and cakes, dependent upon the area and the demographics of the shop in question. I Autumnally recall 177 crumpets discovered symbiotically with pats of good butter, and St. Nicking this swag around the city to friends' tables. I was told of one stalwart who having chanced upon a humbling haul of 100 Guinness(!), promptly scoured the streets for a stout vessel in which to stow them, returning with an auld bed sheet and proceeding to drag them home behind him, wedding the marital fashions of the train, the dragged can and a glut of booze (though by some measure the merrier than marriage might merit). This latter tale may well be apocryphal, skip-lore, grail for bin-grubbing buggers.

But I eat the sodding crumpets.

The perils? Foolhardiness may naturally leave someone sick, though this risk can be all but eradicated following simple hygiene standards, selecting sealed/peelable foodstuffs, proper cleansing, storage and preparation. Sore arms from carting that much free grub. Saving more money than you can responsibly handle. Changing your diet may not be so wonderful of course. Before I began skipping, I was so unused to eating meat it would knock me sick, but repulsion at waste led me to make use of flesh during a winter with a distinct lack of windows. Now, depending upon the source of course, to talk of the quality of supermarket meats to be found in their waste-bins, a profane objection to the term 'quality' and a conclusion of the bin being grander than it deserves are a fair yardstick. It can take discipline not to use what is better off binned. This is a grave downside to such 'resourcefulness', or rather, shame of leaving to rot even what you would never choose to consume otherwise - the first few occasions, on being overawed by cafeteria quantities of white sliced bread, I would duly take as much as was able after discovering other wonders - this is superb if you can arrange some form of redistribution network, otherwise much ends up in turn being binned by yourself. It is only for fortunate or dedicated sorts, nourishing oneself thoroughly entirely through skipping trips.

Are all suppliers bastards? But no! In Glasgow there are thankfully several stores who gladly donate surplus and unsalable stock, as well as pure gifting goods for charitable purposes; one soup kitchen I'll mention receives sacks of artisan breads which would retail at three pounds plus per piece, French yoghurts in terracotta pots, similarly priced, it's a grand thing - but this attitude is to say the very least uncommon, if not out and out deviant in terms of the retail attitudes which have given rise to best practice method of disgraceful amounts squandered for no valid reason, some even seeming to begrudge reduction of items before disposal, safeguarding and borderline watchtowering refuse food. It is not unheard of for some scummier operators to douse food in bleach.

Most folk who skip per se, would not necessarily go hungry without it, or might want mildly for certain nutrients, though a number of skippers are fairly privileged. The average regular(!) may be a wee bit slimmer without; quite often, would actually not dine so opulently without this unintentional supermarket 'aid'. Indeed, many and varied are the luxuries to be unearthed in these (admittedly) unbecoming chests. Though there are many who rely on what is to be found around a city. Myself and many dear to me at some time have or still do. For this reason it is an intolerable assault on the (un)principles of profit, and as such the profiteers must pay to protect what they wish only to waste; that is, truly, a treasure trove for undesirables, those who won't pay, those who can't pay.

To return to the more comfortable aspect, however, what better, more personable gesture than to pervert the bastion, the pinnacle of consumerism, and scavenge a Christmas dinner?

The practicalities; of the supermarkets' bins I've cased in our present locale, most are dumbfoundingly well-guarded (one friend, a wunderkind of skipping, mooted a grappling hook, to which I reminded him this is apparatus generally associated with espionage; yet, is that not what the like of ourselves are engaged in?); I'm antipathetic about cycling around cities at the best of times, and it's becoming icy; I know folk far more dedicated and scout-badged in skipping than I.

This then is ideal - a communal effort is called for, to co-ordinate and co-operate, for an opportunity to provide in abundance what is usually tribally procured and wasted all the more for it, and the redemption of a lost feast; the question matures, then, and shrugs off the chrysalis of self-fulfilment; what finer way to revel in revolt, to feed the destitute and defiant?

To date there's a few kilo of sprouts frozen and a drawer full of spuds. Should it all come off there'll be pictures and a recipe booklet with the next edition. This evening a few of us'll discuss the matter over several vast pizzas courtesy of some profligate sods.

Yours, Skipper James Donnelly

(Egalitarian as it may seem, of course there are finite amounts of produce to vie for; were the practice to become more necessary or popular, signs of territorialism may present themselves. So if you do so, share and share alike. We are undeniably perversely grateful for the shameful and despicable behaviour of our benefactors, and I for one take this opportunity to express my appreciation; I will stop short of requests.)

Disclaimer: These are the views of the author, and not those of Nerve, who as a publication do not necessarily condone such practices, although they bloody well should and there should be weekly walking tours of choice and sexy receptacles and skipping pin-ups and that sort of caper and a redistribution network of humbling efficiency and altruism. Also something following in the sometimes stalkerish-footsteps of Metro's often cringeworthy Rush-Hour Crush: The Beat My Heart Skipped?

Informative articles on supermarket landfill:

bbc.co.uk/insideout/yorkslincs/series7/supermarket_landfills.shtml
channel4.com/news/why-the-supermarket-secrecy-on-food-waste
ecofoodrecycling.co.uk/news/2012/04/17/why-supermarkets-refuse-to-reveal-food-waste-figures/

A guide to the practice: trashwiki.org/en/Main_Page

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Comments:

Comment left by Da on 3rd September, 2013 at 15:07
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/crime/8548653/Woman-in-court-for-taking-waste-food-from-Tesco-bins.html

Comment left by Tom George on 27th September, 2013 at 14:16
I liberated some wood from a skip once and was cautioned by the police for wait for it... "Theft by finding" !!!

Comment left by Authors Da [allegedly] on 21st October, 2013 at 15:19
http://uk.news.yahoo.com/food-thought-families-waste-700-235736361.html#bnig8Iq

Comments are closed on this article