A school excursion to the recycling centre today - among the plastic torsos and gentle stench of a million used milk bottles, and the processed tree-fibres - those flat-topped mountains of once crisp cardboard. It's Remembrance Day and here among yesterday's rubbish, the children stand observing a minute's silence as the bugle sounds the Last Post in haunting solitude. All those young heads bowed and imagining the historic blood-red petals of a trampled poppy, buried in the shadowed corners and citrus light of a far-off French field. In these fertile minds, perhaps winter crouches in bleak and blurring tones - easy to mistake foreboding for a ghostly German tank or a press of light through closed lids for a machine gun's glinting snout. But open your eyes now, children. The minute for remembering has passed. Here, at the Recycling Hub we attempt to rescue the discarded past and recycle it for further usefulness.