There was a skip within view of my bedroom window last week. A container full of expired, unwanted things and yet life swarmed to it, and I watched. Two women on bikes spent an hour picking through. They uncovered dust sheets and carefully wrapped up things I couldn't see...

... They retrieved carrier bags full of rubbish, emptied them, filled them up again with objects they decided had value, found ways to balance them on the handlebars of their bikes. One stood and studiously read a discarded magazine, turning each page...

... When they left, I missed them. Occasionally a car would stop beside the skip and someone would get out, peer in, then leave. My favourite thing was the huge patio umbrella that lay, bent and flapping on the top. Twice someone came and inspected it...

... they'd reach over and pull up a section to see if it was still good and when they did, it looked like a vast, dismembered dragon's wing, black and bony. I kept hoping that if I kept watching, I'd see the hidden dragon uncurl from his treasure, yawn and flap away.

And now the skip is gone, the visitors and the dragon too. I don't think anyone else noticed all these things, but I'm glad I did.