Wombling in Danish

This is not a blog about wombling. Promise. It just so happens that I've only made two blog posts and they just happen to be about wombling.

I went to Copenhagen recently. Lovely place. Everything looks great there. Everything works better there. I said to my other half, "Every other country does everything better than the UK. Except we have the NHS."

Being tight and skint and too uncultured to even attempt the fancy restaurants of Copenhagen, we went straight to the supermarket to stock up.

Lots of bottles of Diet Coke and cans of beer were bought. When I looked at the receipt I saw all these references to 'pants', for all different amounts. "What are these random things they've been charging me for?" I thought.

When we got back to our AirBnB apartment (ace, but that's another blog post) I googled it. (Thank god I've got a decent phone now and access to wi-fi in the apartment).

Turns out 'pant' means 'deposit'. When you buy cans or plastic bottles in Denmark, you are charged a deposit and you have to take the empty cans and bottles back to the supermarket and put them in this fancy machine to get a credit receipt.

One of the great things about going to Copenhagen was the amount of information available about it online - about how things work, how the transport system works, how transport tickets work...There are apps for buying your travel tickets and apps for finding your way around...but nowhere did I see mentioned the Danish deposit system! I even have a couple of friends (yes, I do have a couple of them) who have been to Copenhagen and gave me some tips - but didn't mention that. Maybe because they did what you're supposed to do and went to restaurants every night instead of supermarkets every night like me.

What's this got to do with wombling, you ask?

Well, after I realised that, I started noticing possibly homeless, possibly poor, possibly just unfortunate people everywhere rifling through bins (especially in tourist attractions) for, you guessed it, bottles and cans that they could claim the deposits back off.

Everywhere I went I would notice the abandoned Tuborg cans in the road and consider picking them up. Like a true womble/meff. I couldn't bring myself to do it though. Embarassment.

I was reading a book at the time set in Copenhagen (it's rubbish, don't bother) where the main character moaned about her dad always picking up discarded cans and bottles in the street, even though he wasn't homeless or poor or unfortunate. I thought, "If I lived here, I would definitely do that."

We took all our cans and bottles back to the supermarket on the way home. We were there 3 days and amassed 44DKK (somewhere around £5 I think) worth of recycling. It helped pay for our expensive 3 zone Metro tickets to the airport.

Wombling and Liverpool

I'm in Liverpool for a few days. My hometown, but somewhere I haven't properly lived for close to 15 years.

When I come here I hibernate at 'home' (my mum and dad's). It's the only place it's ok to lie around in my jarmies all day and just watch telly. The only place I don't feel guilty and depressed for doing so. These days I can't even face town and only leave to go bargain hunting in the cheap shops round here.

My mum is not well and only does online shopping these days as she's usually not well enough to go out on her own. So she took the opportunity of having me as her patient taxi driver to go to all the cheap shops she hasn't been able to get to. Iceland, B&M, Poundland, Home and Bargain (as the true Liverpudlians will always call it) and finally, Asda. It was a riot.

The point of this story is to tell you that - like the tight, scabby meff (that's a word I believe only scousers understand) that I am - I picked up two Asda receipts (and my mum picked up one) off the floor in the car park. They were nice big, long ones. I did it so I could put them in the Asda Price Guarantee website and get a voucher I can use off my shopping. I got vouchers for £1.29, £4.55 (and £1.92 off my mum's). So that was exciting. Free money, innit?

It's a thing, that. It's called wombling. Liverpool is the best place to do it as Liverpudlians love to spend. Except this one.

(Oh and I picked up a lottery ticket too. There was nothing on that one.)

So that's my guilty secret. One of em anyway.

I always thought wombling was a bit dodgy but, coincidentally, I read an article about it last night which said Asda don't mind as long as you don't pick them up in the store.

Photoshop skillz