Bin night

It's snow. I know it looks like rain but it's snot. I mean not.

Day three of MrP being away and my capacity for decent conversation is reducing. Out with the dog in the snow (boots and bonnet today, me not her) and we see a man putting his bin out. This is just the kind of thing that could spiral in to out of control barking (her, not me). As we get closer it's clear he's doing them for the whole terrace so I proffer a jaunty 'hello' hoping the dog will identify 'friend' not 'foe'. Just as I manage to suppress saying "will you come round and do mine?" which is actually what I'm thinking, instead, out of my mouth pops "Are you Mr Bin?". He sighed a "Yes, I am".
I know MrP is checking blip "oi, come back and do the bin!"