Text: an original contemporary personal account-style practice extract.

At the canal-path clean-up, I spent most of the morning carrying a sack that knocked against my knee. The litter picker helped in a different way. Its head could be turned at right angles, so I lifted a drinks can from behind the railings without reaching through nettles. A damp wrapper escaped when I closed the jaws too early, and I had to try again. By the final stretch, my hand was aching; the light trigger still responded to a gentle squeeze, which meant I could continue collecting bottle tops until our section was clear.