“A birthday isn’t all about me. It’s about what can I give back.”
While most people toast milestone birthdays with drinks and celebrations, Andrew Paul Salter will celebrate his 51st differently, returning to Salford’s streets with a litter picker in hand, aiming to collect 51 bags, one for every year he has lived.
He’s determined to surpass the 50-bag milestone he completed last year.
Beyond his weekly litter picks, Andy leads two groups of his own creation. Love Your Planet Salford and Clean Up Salford are both entirely volunteer-run, and he chairs them personally.
“I don’t work, everything I do is volunteering,” he says, smiling.
His initiatives extend beyond the streets too. He regularly volunteers at Primrose Hill Primary School in Ordsall and works with The Langworthy Cornerstone and Inspiring Communities Together, helping young people and families engage with their neighbourhoods.
For him, volunteering is not a hobby or a temporary interest, it is a reflection of how he was raised. Growing up on a council estate in Gravesend, Kent, he was taught from the age of 11 to give back whenever possible.
That early lesson would shape not only his character, but eventually the streets of Salford itself.
Today, he has become one of Salford’s most recognisable volunteer litter pickers. But the story of how he reached this point begins long before the bags, the birthday challenges, or the reputation he has quietly built across the city.
He describes Gravesend as “very similar to Salford, some run-down areas, deprived in places.”
Raised on a council estate by parents who “didn’t have much money,” Salter was taught early that giving back was not optional, it was instinctive.
“I started volunteering when I was 11,” he recalls. “Just shopping for elderly people. I’ve always been taught to give back whenever and wherever I can.”
That lesson stayed with him.
Fourteen years ago, when he moved north to Salford, life was not easy. He struggled with severe mental health challenges and found himself increasingly isolated. What made it worse, he says, was the environment around him.
“My outside environment was not very inviting. It was really dirty. Everywhere I went, all I could see was litter.”
For many, that might have been another reason to retreat indoors. For Andy, it became a turning point. “There’s only me that can do something about that.”
His first clean-up was done alone. The scale of the problem felt overwhelming. “There was so much litter. I thought, I’m never going to finish.”
But something unexpected happened as he worked.
“I’m surrounded by small green spaces where animals are trying to live,” he says. “Broken glass everywhere. Rubbish. It’s unpleasant for nature. They can’t clean up after themselves.”
As he cleared the debris, something shifted internally. “It helped me feel better knowing I was providing a clean environment not just for humans, but for animals too. It was quite rewarding, I wasn’t expecting that.”
What began as a response to his own mental health soon became a consistent commitment. Unlike past hobbies that came and went, this one stayed.
“If someone had told me ten years ago this would become such a big part of my life, I’d have laughed,” he admits. “I’ve always changed interests quickly. But this, I’ve stuck at it.”
Last year, when he turned 50, Salter made a statement. Instead of celebrating with drinks, he organised a litter pick and set himself a target: 50 bags for 50 years.
“For me, a birthday isn’t all about me. It’s about what can I give back.”
Originally, he wanted to plant 50 trees, but realised permissions made that unrealistic. So he adapted. Fifty bags became both a personal milestone and a public message.
“If a 21-year-old wants to set a target of 21 bags on their birthday, imagine the impact if more people did that.”
What he expected to be a small gathering of family became something larger. A couple he had never met before turned up after seeing his post online and helped contribute to the total.
By the end of the day, he was crowned Litter Picking King, presented with a golden crown, a blinged-up picker and a 50th birthday badge, gestures that symbolised the affection the community had developed for him.
But the work is not glamorous.
“The hardest part,” he says, “is cleaning an area so it looks really good and then going back a week later and it’s dirty again.”
Returning repeatedly to the same streets can be disheartening, yet he has developed resilience. “I’ve grown a thicker skin.”
He draws strength from a wider network of volunteers across the UK and admits there is even “a tiny bit of friendly competitiveness” when others post their own bag totals online.
The real challenge, however, comes when organised clean-ups attract no one at all, especially in business-heavy areas where residents feel less connected.
Still, Andy believes responsibility does not belong solely to the council.
“It’s not the council that caused the problem. Why should we expect them to clean up after us?”
He rejects the argument that council tax covers litter clearance. “If they didn’t have to spend money on cleaning streets, they could invest that money elsewhere. Adult social care needs support.”
For him, the issue is about ownership and pride. He points to countries such as Japan and Canada, where public cleanliness reflects collective respect. He wishes that the same mindset could be restored here.
Back in the early days, passers-by sometimes assumed he was completing community service. Now, he is greeted by name.
“I was quite isolated when I first moved here,” he says. “Now when I go out, it’s ‘hi Andy, hi Andy.’”
There have been small but powerful moments that affirmed his impact. Once, a woman approached him in a park and handed him two oranges as a thank you. On another occasion, a resident near Langworthy joked she thought she was “having a funny dream” because there was no litter outside her flat.
Perhaps most strikingly, a local artist, Chelsea Davies, included him in her annual calendar illustration, a bin, a figure litter picking, and his name: ANDY SALTER.
“If an artist has recognised that in me,” he says quietly, “then I am making a difference.
” Now, as he moves beyond his milestone birthday, his ambitions are expanding. He and a friend plan not only to litter pick, but to fully transform selected streets, removing graffiti, sweeping pavements, and clearing weeds.
They are exploring volunteer-led bin bags attached to railings, alongside signage encouraging residents to “respect your local volunteer.”
For Andy, cleaner streets are not only aesthetic, but they are psychological.
“People don’t realise the mental health impact of living in a dirty environment,” he says. “When you walk through a clean area, it feels different. It’s good for you.”
His dedication has not gone unnoticed. Andy has been shortlisted for the Salford CVS Heart of Salford Awards and nominated by Keep Britain Tidy, with the possibility of being named Litter Picker of the Year this March. “I don’t do it for awards,” he insists, “but it’s nice that the hard work helps get the message across to people.”
He hopes that is what people remember, not necessarily his name, but the experience of walking somewhere that feels cared for.
His message is simple: “Please be a bit more considerate. Even if you didn’t drop it, recognise that people are giving their free time because they want a better place to live.”
There is no grand speech. No dramatic flourish.
Just a man who once refused to look away and never stopped.
