Long before official policies and colour-coded bins, we simply made do.
In 1960s and 70s Britain, when it came to collecting our rubbish, there were no separate kerb side collections. We didn’t have to remember whether this week was the green or brown bin. And there was no requirement to sort the rubbish we put out for collection.
At the time, it was not a big issue. There were no public campaigns urging us to reduce waste to protect the planet. It was not a mainstream political issue — the UK Green Party wasn’t formed until 1990 (out of the PEOPLE Party, 1972). Television did give us The Good Life, a BBC comedy following the alternative lifestyle of Tom and Barbara Good. Self-sufficiency and recycling in Surbiton. The idea of recycling though, was a fringe issue.
But people often did it because they had to.
Dustbins
The rubbish (garbage) was collected once a week. Everything was put into a small tin bin (larger items would have to go to the local tip). All we had was a small round metal tin bin or two (later they were black plastic or rubberised bins). Household waste went into those bins, and it all went to landfill.
Of course, this was bad, but we were none the wiser. However, in many ways, we recycled far more than we realised, and not because it was policy. But because we had to. Milk came in bottles returned for deposit. Drink bottles were reused. Paper and wood were saved for lighting fires. Leftovers became the next day’s meal. And clothes would be used over and over again.
There were many examples of people recycling, reusing, and repurposing everyday items.
The postwar generation who raised families had grown up at a time when waste was frowned upon. The war years had required people to “make do and mend.” It wasn’t just a slogan; it was a necessity, and for many it became a habit. With clothes, after a few years of wear and tear, they would be repaired, taken in or out, and passed down.
This happened quite often with children’s clothes.
“When you have grown out of them, they will fit your brother.” Mam might say to me when she bought me a new pair of trousers, shirt, or jumper. She would save buttons in tins. And old jumpers were unravelled for wool. Shoes might be repaired rather than discarded, or worn until the holes in them became too big.
But my mother had one big advantage when it came to making do and mending. She was a trained sewing machinist. If it could be made, altered or renewed on a sewing machine, she could do it. No job was too big or too small. She could make clothes last a long time or turn them into something else.
But, more often than not, when something needed replacing, the first port of call was not an expensive shop in the city centre.
No, we would visit local junk shops.
The World of the Junk Shop
Every city and town had junk shops.
Near my home, a fifteen-minute walk away, there was a street of mostly junk shops, or second-hand shops, as some would call them. They were often dimly lit, dusty, and in need of cleaning, but nobody complained. They would pile things high and sell them cheap. We didn’t care about the “shopping experience”, as we wanted a bargain.
These shops were full of other people’s cast-offs. Crockery without matching sets, second-hand books, mismatched cutlery, old toys, electrical items, and furniture. Anything for the home, as long as it fit in the shop, could be found there.
Nothing was labelled “vintage” even if it was antique. There was no eBay to check to see if an item was worth something. The age of the collectible was yet to arrive. I’ve no doubt that those junk shops did house some items that probably had value, but people were mostly buying for need.
For many, whatever you wanted, you tried the junk shop before you bought new. It was cheaper, practical, and despite years of prior use, whatever you bought was often built to last, with years of use left. Today, we might call it upcycling. Back then, it was just shopping.
In our family, we would visit the junk shops on Saturday, which was a traditional day of the week for people to shop — a busy shopping day. There was no Sunday trading back then, no 24/7 opening time, either. No shop-to-you-drop online options. If you wanted to shop from the comfort of your own home, you did it with a catalogue.
For many, Saturday was the big shopping day of the week.
Rummage Sales and Charity Shops
Then we had rummage sales. Also known as jumble sales, a weekend would not be complete without checking the local paper to see if there was one listed nearby. Clothes were piled high on tables. Toys and books were sold for pennies. In fact, most things were sold for pennies. Rummage sales were often the cheapest of all.