Caroline Crampton

One man’s rubbish is another man’s treasure

It just takes a bit of imagination to recycle the meanest objects into something spectacular, say Lisa Woollett and Emily Cockayne

Objects retrieved from the Thames by Lisa Woollett. Credit: Lisa Woollett

Already a subscriber? Log in

This article is for subscribers only

Subscribe today to get 3 months' delivery of the magazine, as well as online and app access, for only £3.

  • Weekly delivery of the magazine
  • Unlimited access to our website and app
  • Enjoy Spectator newsletters and podcasts
  • Explore our online archive, going back to 1828

Buttons, pipes, inkwells and bones join her burgeoning collection, and feature in the meticulous photographic collages that illustrate the book. This recreational mudlarking has received considerable publicity recently: enthusiasts have built significant Instagram followings with artfully posed pictures of their finds, and the Thames sections of Rag and Bone have much in common with Lara Maiklem’s book on the subject published last year.

Woollett has now left London for Cornwall, and a somewhat disjointed finale sees her picking up Lego bricks and micro-plastic beads on the sand there. Her environmental worries are well handled; but without the earlier geographical framework the narrative loses its urgency. This kind of book aims to meld disparate elements into a whole — family and urban history, nature writing, psychogeography and ecology — but it doesn’t quite come off here.

Emily Cockayne’s Rummage overflows with detail. She rescues wonderfully bizarre artefacts from rubbish heaps to plot Britain’s changing attitudes to consumption and recycling. There are pianos made from blood and sawdust, bed socks from dog hair, a book from a ship, and much else.

She takes in the make-do-and-mend mentality of the second world war, and discusses why so much recycling work has traditionally fallen to women. Nowadays it has become more of a middle-class preoccupation, for those with the time to sort different kinds of paper and make special trips for their disposal. But there’s nothing worthy about Cockayne, and the way she embraces historical anecdote, social critique and personal reminiscence never seems ponderous.

It’s hard not to fall for a chapter on stuffed animals which begins: ‘In 1983 my nan gave me a toy lion which smelt of feet.’ On the next page there’s a photograph of a cuddly Womble that has been disembowelled to reveal its components — a clue to the unemotional way Cockayne handles her material. Who’d have thought that a trawl through jumble sales could be quite so engaging?

The ‘bottom up’ view of history grows ever more popular as we investigate how our forebears scraped their livings. Cockayne extends this to ‘things previously deemed irrelevant or commonplace’. By breaking down the boundaries between waste and overlooked treasure, Rummage will make us think twice about what we throw away in future.

Comments

Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months

Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.

Already a subscriber? Log in