The things people throw out these days...
Discussion
I am in Perth, West Australia at the moment and as part of the council's recycling policy, every 6 months or so each suburbs shire (local council) has a 'verge collection service', whereby people are allowed to chuck out anything they don't want onto the verge, then a couple of days later the council come along and sweep up what's left. In the mean time, all and sundry are allowed to pick through the heaps of junk and take whatever takes their fancy.
Now you're probably thinking that rooting about in other peoples rubbish is a fairly scabby thing to do, but if you saw some of the things people throw out you would probably be tempted to pick up a few things yourself. One doesn't like to do it on ones doorstep, but this afternoon I noticed a neighboring suburb was having a chuck-out day and thought I'd go along for a look. And what did I find? Well amongst the widescreen tvs, redundant computers, bicycles and surfboards, I noticed some kind of modern looking Hi-Fi lurking under a pile of tree trimmings.
It was a thin, wall mountable type unit with a clear section in the middle housing a CD and tape deck. I was fairly sure it was just some cheap 'Parasonics' type, £59.99 from Tesco's jobby. I lifted the tree trimmings, glanced over it and noticed it didn't have a power cord so carelessly dropped them back down. As I did so, I noticed that placed near it was an uncharacteristically stylish looking remote with a large LCD screen at the top, which seemed totally at odds with what I had asssumed was a cheap and cheerful, plastic fantastic stereo. Upon further inspection of the surprisingly weighty and strangely familiar remote I noticed the words BANG & OLUFSEN written across the base of it.
Looking back down at the dusty, leaf strewn hi-fi I still couldn't comprehend that the remote went with it, but as soon as I took hold of it to lift it out, I was struck by it's weight and the solid, metallic feel of the handle. Wiping the dust off the glass panel, I noted the characteristically european layout of the buttons, and then at the bottom of the panel those words again. BANG & OLUFSEN. The lack of a power cord suddenly became hugely insignificant.
Noticing the house owner in his garden trimming more trees, I shouted over to him 'this hi-fi, does it still work?'
'No idea' he said, 'it's my fathers and has been in the shed for probably 10 years. It's no good to me without a plug anyway'
so I thanked him and put it in the car, noting as I did so that the power input socket was a fairly typical '8' shaped, 2 wire jobby. A few houses up the road I found an old twin-deck stereo, with no CD lid but a perfectly good power cable, so I took the cable and headed straight home.
Imagine my delight, when upon plugging it in the buttons lit up in a modest red glow, and the glass panel effortlessly moved itself to one side. Slightly flummoxedby the unfamiliar controls, I reached for the remote and pressed the CD button, followed by the one invitingly labelled 'GO'. Sweet sweet music! Well, actually it turned out to be a CD titled 'German beer drinking songs', but I didn't care. It worked, and not only that, it sounded fantastic.
After a few minutes researching on google, I found out I am now the proud owner of a 1999 or newer Beosound Century and matching Beo 4 remote, with a combined retail price of over £1,200! A quick wipe with a damp cloth and it's looking good as new, taking pride of place on my rented flat's mantle piece.
So there you go, it's amazing what some people throw out! Thanks for reading.
Now you're probably thinking that rooting about in other peoples rubbish is a fairly scabby thing to do, but if you saw some of the things people throw out you would probably be tempted to pick up a few things yourself. One doesn't like to do it on ones doorstep, but this afternoon I noticed a neighboring suburb was having a chuck-out day and thought I'd go along for a look. And what did I find? Well amongst the widescreen tvs, redundant computers, bicycles and surfboards, I noticed some kind of modern looking Hi-Fi lurking under a pile of tree trimmings.
It was a thin, wall mountable type unit with a clear section in the middle housing a CD and tape deck. I was fairly sure it was just some cheap 'Parasonics' type, £59.99 from Tesco's jobby. I lifted the tree trimmings, glanced over it and noticed it didn't have a power cord so carelessly dropped them back down. As I did so, I noticed that placed near it was an uncharacteristically stylish looking remote with a large LCD screen at the top, which seemed totally at odds with what I had asssumed was a cheap and cheerful, plastic fantastic stereo. Upon further inspection of the surprisingly weighty and strangely familiar remote I noticed the words BANG & OLUFSEN written across the base of it.
Looking back down at the dusty, leaf strewn hi-fi I still couldn't comprehend that the remote went with it, but as soon as I took hold of it to lift it out, I was struck by it's weight and the solid, metallic feel of the handle. Wiping the dust off the glass panel, I noted the characteristically european layout of the buttons, and then at the bottom of the panel those words again. BANG & OLUFSEN. The lack of a power cord suddenly became hugely insignificant.
Noticing the house owner in his garden trimming more trees, I shouted over to him 'this hi-fi, does it still work?'
'No idea' he said, 'it's my fathers and has been in the shed for probably 10 years. It's no good to me without a plug anyway'
so I thanked him and put it in the car, noting as I did so that the power input socket was a fairly typical '8' shaped, 2 wire jobby. A few houses up the road I found an old twin-deck stereo, with no CD lid but a perfectly good power cable, so I took the cable and headed straight home.
Imagine my delight, when upon plugging it in the buttons lit up in a modest red glow, and the glass panel effortlessly moved itself to one side. Slightly flummoxedby the unfamiliar controls, I reached for the remote and pressed the CD button, followed by the one invitingly labelled 'GO'. Sweet sweet music! Well, actually it turned out to be a CD titled 'German beer drinking songs', but I didn't care. It worked, and not only that, it sounded fantastic.
After a few minutes researching on google, I found out I am now the proud owner of a 1999 or newer Beosound Century and matching Beo 4 remote, with a combined retail price of over £1,200! A quick wipe with a damp cloth and it's looking good as new, taking pride of place on my rented flat's mantle piece.
So there you go, it's amazing what some people throw out! Thanks for reading.
Edited by busta on Sunday 3rd May 14:25
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