‘You’d never catch me litter picking’ my friend remarked as I was getting ready to go out on another evening litter pick or ‘bimble’ as my litter picking friend calls it.

I pick litter around Lulworth, the Ranges and en route to Wareham

Slipping on my gloves and gathering the required paraphernalia I asked myself the question what does inspire me to go out and pick up other people’s rubbish’?

Personally, for me, it’s an opportunity to enjoy fresh air, the company of like-minded people, helping the environment and a sense of achievement when you have cleaned an area and have managed to snare that allusive piece of plastic.

Brambles, nettles and hawthorn have torn my arms to shreds in my quest to reach that last piece of rubbish or that hanging bag of dog waste.

What would I or any rational person rather see? Dorset’s roadsides awash with pretty primroses and daffodils or our roadsides choked with plastic bottles, bags and empty wrappers?

The behaviour of litter louts is incomprehensible. At certain sites, the task can be overwhelming and at times so appalling it can be difficult to know where to start.

Beaches, laybys and verges seem to be areas where people feel it is okay to discard their rubbish, instead of taking it home and disposing of it responsibly rubbish gets left, thrown from car windows or dumped out of the car door.

To some that I have posed the same question, litter picking gives them a sense of well-being, but it also makes them a little sad. Sad that our villages, roadsides, and coastline are being treated so disrespectfully.

For others it helps with mental health issues, it has certainly helped me, especially during this difficult year; it’s been a bit of a lifesaver.