Brit's trash can

Usage examples of dustbin.

I followed it until I got to the grandly named Recycling Center, which, in fact, was three galvanized dustbins for plastic bottles, glass and aluminium cans, and clambered over.

There were discarded cans and bottles around me, and it looked as if this entire area had become the dustbin of the neighbourhood: cardboard boxes, pieces of old newspaper, rusted metal, twisted plastic, had been left among the nettles and the pale bindweed as if they too might grow and flourish beneath the sky.

She walked hurriedly up the garden path, between the blooming puce rhododendrons, flowering puce gladioli, glorious puce sunflowers and spreading puce spruce trees and looking left and right and up and down as well, slipped behind the trellis work that hid the two puce dustbins and the garden shed, all painted puce.

The air is filled with missiles: bottles, dustbin lids, bricks, whatever the protestors can lay their hands on.

Another was a little street urchin who had found some sherds in a dustbin, but was in too dazed a state to remember exactly where.

Can it have a theophany with nothing to look at but dustbins and brick walls and never a moment of silence and loneliness?

Rushton continued his monologue throughout the rescue, occasionally referring to Scamp as a dustbin and a lapdog, expressions that he accompanied with a grin at Selina.

For all those old dreams of the advent of the Ten Lost Tribes, of Buddhist priests, of Welsh princes, or of Phenician merchants on American soil, and there exerting a permanent influence, have been consigned to the dustbin by every unbiased student, and when we see such men as Mr.

In the streets of Belsize Park and Swiss Cottage and Finchley, the pavements glittered, the dustbins gave out Rabelaisian smells.

Look at me, and look at Saul, and look at Maud, too, hopping from toe to toe in a pink skirt of surprising finery as bracelets tinkle at her wrists on this Midsummer day as we cluster around a shared cigarette by the dustbins between two Doxy Street boarding houses, watching the trams go by as we debate the wild moment for the leap which will take us to the fair in Westminster Great Park.

Directly beneath the window was Viru, dirty snow and ice covering overflowing dustbins.

German codebreakers, some of which were conducted at a secret location codenamed Dustbin.

A door at the side led to a tiny kitchen with no window, which led in turn to the bedroom overlooking a forlorn garden with a row of dustbins along one wall and a tangle of grass.

I dare say if you had to live from hand to mouth among the dustbins you would be dirty and probably flea-ridden too.

Next morning the din from the dustbin lids had hardly subsided when the grim realisation drove into my brain.