One GoodGymer found himself oddly conflicted after a litter pick.

Yesterday afternoon Matthew returned to Ockwells Road with a spring in his step. He aimed to clear away the inevitable piles of rubbish left after litter louts ran riot at the weekend.

Things did not go as planned. There was hardly any rubbish to round up, virtually no trash to track down, almost zero garbage to grab. My litter picking fun was the only thing that got binned.

There was so little litter to collect I decided to take a desperate detour around Ockwells Park. There was hardly any rubbish to be found there either.

I couldn’t believe the lack of litter and thought someone was playing a trick on me. I began to think naughty people were about to creep up behind me and shower the missing trash on my head. It was at that point I thought I saw Tom Selleck hiding in a bush, ready to surprise me. But it was only a Magnum ice cream wrapper. I greedily grabbed the lone litter and headed for home.

I ended my rubbish ramble with a bin bag less than a quarter full. This was obviously good news, the battle to reclaim Ockwells Road from rubbish had been temporarily won. Yet I felt oddly let down by the litter louts. I felt myself wishing they had given me more to do, as I have started to rather enjoy litter picking.