Thursday 7 November 2019
Wednesday 21 September 2016
On reaching £1000
So I've lived - more or less successfully - without using disposable plastic for a nearly month. It is difficult at times. It requires thought and forward planning and also some expense. When the month is over, I will loosen up a bit but what I won't be doing is heading out on a plastic binge. My lifelong relationship with plastic has now permanently altered. Never again will I buy bottled water or drink coffee from a takeaway cup. I will continue to buy the fruit and vegetables that come loose instead of wrapped in plastic. I won't bother with clingfilm because I have reusable food wrap and sandwich bags. I will replace my bamboo toothbrush with another bamboo toothbrush but I will never again use the sodding Peppermint and Wintergreen clay-based toothpaste for people who live in the woods. I will also probably shave my legs now and then.
I am carrying out this act of environmentalist extremism because I am alarmed and anxious, and sometimes despairing, about the state the Earth is in. Very often, I regret the fact that I made myself find out about it because I cannot now un-know what I learned, and nothing has the power to upset me more than the sight of unnatural damage to the natural world.
There is nothing ugly in the natural landscape. Nothing. Ugliness exists only where people have altered it. It depresses the shit out of me.
But how far do you take it? Where do you stop when you're trying to minimise your life's impact on the planet? There is so much to cut out. Don't use plastic, don't fly, don't drive a car, don't buy food from other countries, don't buy food grown more than fifty miles away, don't eat beef, don't eat fish, don't eat meat of any sort, cut out dairy, become vegan, don't have more than two children, don't heat your home, don't turn lights on, don't use a computer, don't overeat, don't use carrier bags, don't use paper bags, don't use anything made with palm oil, don't buy mahogany or teak, don't buy wooden furniture, don't buy plastic furniture, don't watch tv, don't consume, live in a house no bigger than you need, don't use paper...
You can't breathe. You can't breathe without destroying something.
The trouble is, we exist in a system. A world system. We're trapped in it. Some of us would like to get out, but then where would we go? We'd be sent to the fringes, sent to live among the mad and the misfits and the ones who couldn't get on, and we want to get on so we stay, and we use plastic and we fly and we drive cars and we buy food from other countries and we buy food grown more than fifty miles away and we eat beef and we eat fish and we eat meat of every sort and we consume dairy and we don't become vegan and we have more than two children and we heat our homes and we turn lights on and we use computers and we overeat and we use carrier bags and paper bags and we use things made with palm oil and we buy mahogany and teak and we buy wooden furniture and plastic furniture and we watch tv and we consume and we live in houses bigger than we need and we use paper...
And we cannot stop.
And slowly, the world around us is falling apart.
We won't live to see the worst of it, although certainly, we will see some. We might live through the death of the Great Barrier Reef, but we won't see the full collapse of the Arctic or the disappearance of the tropical forests. We'll see the sea levels rise and some of the loss of land mass, but probably not the famine and the vast extinctions of species.
But if we don't change, now, our children will see all of this. And it is really important to me that when it happens, my children don't say, 'My mother knew this was coming, but she knew there was nothing she could do.' They need to be the ones that say, 'My mother knew this was coming, and did everything she could.'
I am carrying out this act of environmentalist extremism because I am alarmed and anxious, and sometimes despairing, about the state the Earth is in. Very often, I regret the fact that I made myself find out about it because I cannot now un-know what I learned, and nothing has the power to upset me more than the sight of unnatural damage to the natural world.
There is nothing ugly in the natural landscape. Nothing. Ugliness exists only where people have altered it. It depresses the shit out of me.
But how far do you take it? Where do you stop when you're trying to minimise your life's impact on the planet? There is so much to cut out. Don't use plastic, don't fly, don't drive a car, don't buy food from other countries, don't buy food grown more than fifty miles away, don't eat beef, don't eat fish, don't eat meat of any sort, cut out dairy, become vegan, don't have more than two children, don't heat your home, don't turn lights on, don't use a computer, don't overeat, don't use carrier bags, don't use paper bags, don't use anything made with palm oil, don't buy mahogany or teak, don't buy wooden furniture, don't buy plastic furniture, don't watch tv, don't consume, live in a house no bigger than you need, don't use paper...
You can't breathe. You can't breathe without destroying something.
The trouble is, we exist in a system. A world system. We're trapped in it. Some of us would like to get out, but then where would we go? We'd be sent to the fringes, sent to live among the mad and the misfits and the ones who couldn't get on, and we want to get on so we stay, and we use plastic and we fly and we drive cars and we buy food from other countries and we buy food grown more than fifty miles away and we eat beef and we eat fish and we eat meat of every sort and we consume dairy and we don't become vegan and we have more than two children and we heat our homes and we turn lights on and we use computers and we overeat and we use carrier bags and paper bags and we use things made with palm oil and we buy mahogany and teak and we buy wooden furniture and plastic furniture and we watch tv and we consume and we live in houses bigger than we need and we use paper...
And we cannot stop.
And slowly, the world around us is falling apart.
We won't live to see the worst of it, although certainly, we will see some. We might live through the death of the Great Barrier Reef, but we won't see the full collapse of the Arctic or the disappearance of the tropical forests. We'll see the sea levels rise and some of the loss of land mass, but probably not the famine and the vast extinctions of species.
But if we don't change, now, our children will see all of this. And it is really important to me that when it happens, my children don't say, 'My mother knew this was coming, but she knew there was nothing she could do.' They need to be the ones that say, 'My mother knew this was coming, and did everything she could.'
Monday 19 September 2016
A New Language.
I have just returned from a brief walk around Hexham - from the West End where I live, then a little way up Priestlands, and on to the footpath that leads through the woods to the reservoir, below which is my allotment.
Through the woodland runs a stream. I stood on the bridge and photographed it. The area is very small. This is some of the rubbish I found there:-
The largest and most interesting piece was a plastic tray, which my historical expertise estimates to be from some time around 1975. Here it is, close-up:-
If you look closely, you will see two fish heads, one fish tail, a fish skeleton and a polythene bag.
I am not a scientist, so I am not going to go about finding out the cause of death of these fish. It could be anything from natural predators to shallow waters to disease. It might be that the fish died further upstream and, along with the rubbish, were swept to this area. I have no idea.
But we could imagine that the fish ate or got somehow wrapped up in the polythene bag. In that way, the beautiful little stream in Hexham acts like a microcosm of the sea. Plastic enters the water from somewhere; it is swept by the current to somewhere else, marine life eats it or gets tangled in it, then it dies.
Oh, who cares? It's only a sodding fish and every time I got rejected by some unappreciative love interest in my twenties (i.e. lots of times), I was told there were plenty more fish in the sea. This, actually, is untrue these days. Gross over-fishing and the accumulation of plastic in the sea means that, come 2050, there will be more plastic than fish in the ocean. Therefore, language will also need adapt.
'Plenty more plastic shit in the sea,' will become the new phrase with which to console the young and heartbroken, thereby symbolically reinforcing the idea that they all might as well fucking give up on love because it's just a fat load of carcinogenic shit.
I am very much in favour of this phrase.
But anyway, I digress. Back to the dead fish. I can see that two dead fish might not break your heart enough to make you care very much about plastic in the sea. But those fish are in turn eaten by larger, more charismatic marine life and cause damage to them. They are also, of course, eaten by humans. Research on the impact of plastic in the human body is still in its infancy, but it is unlikely to have many health-giving benefits. Current thinking suggests plastic chemicals can cause infertility in men and increase the risks of some cancers. There is a fuller article on the issue here.
For these and many other reasons, I am setting up Plastic-free Hexham. It will mostly involve my market stall selling refills of household cleaning products and food items but as we approach Christmas, I will also be selling gorgeous Christmas fabric and ribbons as an alternative to wrapping paper and sellotape. In five years' time, if I have my way, Hexham at Christmas will be totally reusable.
Through the woodland runs a stream. I stood on the bridge and photographed it. The area is very small. This is some of the rubbish I found there:-
The largest and most interesting piece was a plastic tray, which my historical expertise estimates to be from some time around 1975. Here it is, close-up:-
It was actually very handy, as it meant I could pile all the other rubbish on top of it and bring it home:-
Later, I will set about sorting into recyclable and non-recyclable and then dispose of it. I shall look forward to this task.
The area where I found all this stank. I thought it was the smell of boy wee at first, but as I stepped down into the stream, I saw this:-
If you look closely, you will see two fish heads, one fish tail, a fish skeleton and a polythene bag.
I am not a scientist, so I am not going to go about finding out the cause of death of these fish. It could be anything from natural predators to shallow waters to disease. It might be that the fish died further upstream and, along with the rubbish, were swept to this area. I have no idea.
But we could imagine that the fish ate or got somehow wrapped up in the polythene bag. In that way, the beautiful little stream in Hexham acts like a microcosm of the sea. Plastic enters the water from somewhere; it is swept by the current to somewhere else, marine life eats it or gets tangled in it, then it dies.
Oh, who cares? It's only a sodding fish and every time I got rejected by some unappreciative love interest in my twenties (i.e. lots of times), I was told there were plenty more fish in the sea. This, actually, is untrue these days. Gross over-fishing and the accumulation of plastic in the sea means that, come 2050, there will be more plastic than fish in the ocean. Therefore, language will also need adapt.
'Plenty more plastic shit in the sea,' will become the new phrase with which to console the young and heartbroken, thereby symbolically reinforcing the idea that they all might as well fucking give up on love because it's just a fat load of carcinogenic shit.
I am very much in favour of this phrase.
But anyway, I digress. Back to the dead fish. I can see that two dead fish might not break your heart enough to make you care very much about plastic in the sea. But those fish are in turn eaten by larger, more charismatic marine life and cause damage to them. They are also, of course, eaten by humans. Research on the impact of plastic in the human body is still in its infancy, but it is unlikely to have many health-giving benefits. Current thinking suggests plastic chemicals can cause infertility in men and increase the risks of some cancers. There is a fuller article on the issue here.
For these and many other reasons, I am setting up Plastic-free Hexham. It will mostly involve my market stall selling refills of household cleaning products and food items but as we approach Christmas, I will also be selling gorgeous Christmas fabric and ribbons as an alternative to wrapping paper and sellotape. In five years' time, if I have my way, Hexham at Christmas will be totally reusable.
Saturday 17 September 2016
Cake
The other day, my daughter told me she wants to be on Junior Bake-Off and asked if I would teach her to bake. I love to see lofty ambition in a child, so naturally said yes and spent the next few nights planning a full childhood baking syllabus, beginning with the Victoria Sandwich and moving gently through to coffee cake, chocolate cake, lemon drizzle cake, black forest gateau, meringues, scones, muffins, bread rolls and so on for the next fifteen years until finally, at twenty-one, she'd be able to build her own mortgage-free, climate-change resistant home out of gingerbread and everlasting gobstoppers.
'I want to make a five-layer wedding cake,' she announced this morning, and began taking all the tins out of the cupboard and stacking them in demonstration of her own particular vision of a multi-layered wedding cake. There were sandwich tins and loaf tins and tins of the same size, all going on infinitely (it seemed, from where I stood), to be topped in the end with something the size of a miniature muffin.
I came over uncharacteristically OCD at this point, and started flipping out at the thought of anyone attempting a multi-tiered cake before they had mastered the Victoria Sandwich. In my head, the issue took on all the magnitude of a global terror threat. She had to make a Victoria Sandwich cake, otherwise how could she ever progress, slowly but surely, to the future-proof house? In fact, how could she ever learn anything effectively if she wanted to start with the work of the experts? I had visions of my ambitious (yet simultaneously deeply reluctant) daughter, forever knowing nothing because she'd started out knowing everything. I think I might have given her a talking-to about this that has probably scarred her for life at the same time as being wholly futile. *Turns face away from memory. Prefers to forget maternal failings.*
Anyway, she bent to my will eventually and made a Victoria Sandwich cake. Oh, the joy! Oh, the deep, pure and uncomplicated joy of my realisation that CAKE CONTAINS NO PLASTIC. Look:-
Sugar (in a paper bag)
Flour (in a paper bag)
Butter (in metal wrap stuff)
Eggs (in a box)
Milk (from a bottle)
Vanilla (from an ancient pod that happened to be kicking around a shelf instead of a plastic bottle)
Jam
Icing sugar
Never mind that paper bags and the metal wrap for butter are unique environmental disasters in themselves, THERE WAS NO FUCKING PLASTIC.
My daughter made the cake. I stood on the sidelines giving the occasional direction ('no, two tins are enough'), happy in the knowledge that I could eat this sugary shit with zero plastic guilt. She was happy because she was high on cake mixture. The room filled with the odour of rising vanilla sponge and mother-daughter bonding. Some people came to view the house. They got the love vibe, I'm sure.
We went to the allotment to water the lettuces and spring onions. We picked blackberries. She said, 'Can I put blackberries on the cake?'
Part of my heart fell out of my arse at the thought of this tampering with the Victoria Sandwich and what it might mean for her ability to make steady progress in all areas of her education, but then all of a sudden I got over it and said, 'Yes. Do whatever you want.'
So this is it:
I'm not sure exactly how it works, but the top has been moved backward to allow for a platform for the blackberries. Or something.
You will see that a lot of this cake has been eaten. It was mostly by me. It was plastic free. It was dinner. Half a cake and a corn on the cob.
Life is great.
'I want to make a five-layer wedding cake,' she announced this morning, and began taking all the tins out of the cupboard and stacking them in demonstration of her own particular vision of a multi-layered wedding cake. There were sandwich tins and loaf tins and tins of the same size, all going on infinitely (it seemed, from where I stood), to be topped in the end with something the size of a miniature muffin.
I came over uncharacteristically OCD at this point, and started flipping out at the thought of anyone attempting a multi-tiered cake before they had mastered the Victoria Sandwich. In my head, the issue took on all the magnitude of a global terror threat. She had to make a Victoria Sandwich cake, otherwise how could she ever progress, slowly but surely, to the future-proof house? In fact, how could she ever learn anything effectively if she wanted to start with the work of the experts? I had visions of my ambitious (yet simultaneously deeply reluctant) daughter, forever knowing nothing because she'd started out knowing everything. I think I might have given her a talking-to about this that has probably scarred her for life at the same time as being wholly futile. *Turns face away from memory. Prefers to forget maternal failings.*
Anyway, she bent to my will eventually and made a Victoria Sandwich cake. Oh, the joy! Oh, the deep, pure and uncomplicated joy of my realisation that CAKE CONTAINS NO PLASTIC. Look:-
Sugar (in a paper bag)
Flour (in a paper bag)
Butter (in metal wrap stuff)
Eggs (in a box)
Milk (from a bottle)
Vanilla (from an ancient pod that happened to be kicking around a shelf instead of a plastic bottle)
Jam
Icing sugar
Never mind that paper bags and the metal wrap for butter are unique environmental disasters in themselves, THERE WAS NO FUCKING PLASTIC.
My daughter made the cake. I stood on the sidelines giving the occasional direction ('no, two tins are enough'), happy in the knowledge that I could eat this sugary shit with zero plastic guilt. She was happy because she was high on cake mixture. The room filled with the odour of rising vanilla sponge and mother-daughter bonding. Some people came to view the house. They got the love vibe, I'm sure.
We went to the allotment to water the lettuces and spring onions. We picked blackberries. She said, 'Can I put blackberries on the cake?'
Part of my heart fell out of my arse at the thought of this tampering with the Victoria Sandwich and what it might mean for her ability to make steady progress in all areas of her education, but then all of a sudden I got over it and said, 'Yes. Do whatever you want.'
So this is it:
I'm not sure exactly how it works, but the top has been moved backward to allow for a platform for the blackberries. Or something.
You will see that a lot of this cake has been eaten. It was mostly by me. It was plastic free. It was dinner. Half a cake and a corn on the cob.
Life is great.
Friday 16 September 2016
Competition Time
I am challenging all followers of this blog to a plastic-free dinner.
If you can have one meal this weekend consisting of either fish/meat/Quorn, two types of vegetable and a carb of some description, followed by a dessert, none of which came wrapped in plastic, then email me a picture of it, saying where you bought the stuff, to sarahstovell@hotmail.com.
The winner will get £20. But I will give it to A Month Without Plastic. It's the prize of altruism and a feeling of virtuousness. You'll love it.
If you can have one meal this weekend consisting of either fish/meat/Quorn, two types of vegetable and a carb of some description, followed by a dessert, none of which came wrapped in plastic, then email me a picture of it, saying where you bought the stuff, to sarahstovell@hotmail.com.
The winner will get £20. But I will give it to A Month Without Plastic. It's the prize of altruism and a feeling of virtuousness. You'll love it.
Thursday 15 September 2016
What to Eat
Ah, what to eat when living without plastic?
Answer: not a lot.
Over the last two weeks, I have cut out shop-bought bread, fish, all Quorn products, almost all fruit, vegetables, nuts, hummus, cereal bars, orange juice, chocolate bars, crisps, ice cream, sweets, most salad, coffee, pasta, rice... The list of foods coming fully wrapped in plastic or containing at least some plastic in their packaging goes on and on.
My breadmaker has been a handy thing. I've made two loaves every day, which has the fortunate additional feature of concealing the stench of the cat's litter tray (it has a lid, which means we can't see all the little poos and so forget to empty it) with the more inviting smell of freshly-baked bread. I'm hoping that this, in turn, will lead someone to make an offer on our house, which is currently on the market at the bargain price of £199,950. (If you would like to come and view it, please call Youngs RPS.)
Other things I've been able to eat are: eggs, peppers sold loose at the market, baked potatoes, butter, lettuce from the allotment, corn on the cob that my partner found still in its leaves in Tesco (it was much, much nicer than plastic-wrapped stuff because the leaves kept it fresh), teriyaki sauce and apples and plums kind friends have donated from their gardens. I have mostly turned these into crumbles, which has gone some way to compensating for the loss of chocolate, although I can tell you now that serving it without cream is a massive apple crumble compromise.
At the beginning of the month, I switched from coffee to tea because I had tea left over from years ago. I went off it last time I was pregnant and tea and I haven't ever fully resumed our old affair. Anyway, then the teabags ran out, so yesterday, with some trepidation, I went to buy more. Here is the teabag aisle of my local supermarket:
Plastic everywhere. I hunted and hunted and at one point I began to fear I would have to resort to some sort of herbal shit that is simply NOT FUCKING TEA, no matter what labels the manufacturers of Rabbit Shit and Sustainably-plucked Hedgehog Prickle teabags shove on the packaging of this absolute bollocks.
But in the end, somewhere towards the bottom shelf, I found it. Good old Twinings (although they do also make herbal shit). Just a plain box, on its own, with no unnecessary plastic addition. Look at this:-
I was a little nervous, though, that I might arrive home, whip open the box and find the dismal spectacle of 50 teabags contained in a plastic wrap but no. This is what I found instead:-
Look at that little beauty. A 25-bag high stack of conjoined teabags. I performed the Dance of the Happy Living Without-Plasticker and made a giant mug full.
But overall, these two vessels have been my saviours for the last two weeks. One is a water bottle, the other is a reusable coffee cup. On the days when I go to work, I get up at 5 for the long commute to Lincoln University. I'm sure it's ethically all wrong, but I love Costa lattes and those take-away cups they supply are evil in every way. So I take my own and they fill it for me and then they give me some extra points on my reward card for being so sanctimonious.
And the water bottle. Well, it's a water bottle. I fill it with water from the tap, carry it with me and never get thirsty. It's magic, and takes a little bit of business away from the bastard Nestle.
They were easy changes to make and ones I will continue forever. The reusable, washable cup. Simple in every way, and yet movingly brilliant at keeping plastic out of the sea.
Answer: not a lot.
Over the last two weeks, I have cut out shop-bought bread, fish, all Quorn products, almost all fruit, vegetables, nuts, hummus, cereal bars, orange juice, chocolate bars, crisps, ice cream, sweets, most salad, coffee, pasta, rice... The list of foods coming fully wrapped in plastic or containing at least some plastic in their packaging goes on and on.
My breadmaker has been a handy thing. I've made two loaves every day, which has the fortunate additional feature of concealing the stench of the cat's litter tray (it has a lid, which means we can't see all the little poos and so forget to empty it) with the more inviting smell of freshly-baked bread. I'm hoping that this, in turn, will lead someone to make an offer on our house, which is currently on the market at the bargain price of £199,950. (If you would like to come and view it, please call Youngs RPS.)
Other things I've been able to eat are: eggs, peppers sold loose at the market, baked potatoes, butter, lettuce from the allotment, corn on the cob that my partner found still in its leaves in Tesco (it was much, much nicer than plastic-wrapped stuff because the leaves kept it fresh), teriyaki sauce and apples and plums kind friends have donated from their gardens. I have mostly turned these into crumbles, which has gone some way to compensating for the loss of chocolate, although I can tell you now that serving it without cream is a massive apple crumble compromise.
At the beginning of the month, I switched from coffee to tea because I had tea left over from years ago. I went off it last time I was pregnant and tea and I haven't ever fully resumed our old affair. Anyway, then the teabags ran out, so yesterday, with some trepidation, I went to buy more. Here is the teabag aisle of my local supermarket:
Plastic everywhere. I hunted and hunted and at one point I began to fear I would have to resort to some sort of herbal shit that is simply NOT FUCKING TEA, no matter what labels the manufacturers of Rabbit Shit and Sustainably-plucked Hedgehog Prickle teabags shove on the packaging of this absolute bollocks.
But in the end, somewhere towards the bottom shelf, I found it. Good old Twinings (although they do also make herbal shit). Just a plain box, on its own, with no unnecessary plastic addition. Look at this:-
I was a little nervous, though, that I might arrive home, whip open the box and find the dismal spectacle of 50 teabags contained in a plastic wrap but no. This is what I found instead:-
Look at that little beauty. A 25-bag high stack of conjoined teabags. I performed the Dance of the Happy Living Without-Plasticker and made a giant mug full.
But overall, these two vessels have been my saviours for the last two weeks. One is a water bottle, the other is a reusable coffee cup. On the days when I go to work, I get up at 5 for the long commute to Lincoln University. I'm sure it's ethically all wrong, but I love Costa lattes and those take-away cups they supply are evil in every way. So I take my own and they fill it for me and then they give me some extra points on my reward card for being so sanctimonious.
And the water bottle. Well, it's a water bottle. I fill it with water from the tap, carry it with me and never get thirsty. It's magic, and takes a little bit of business away from the bastard Nestle.
They were easy changes to make and ones I will continue forever. The reusable, washable cup. Simple in every way, and yet movingly brilliant at keeping plastic out of the sea.
Wednesday 14 September 2016
What a plastic-free woman looks like
On a good day, where I use plastic to the max, I look a lot like this - not exactly like this because this was taken a few years ago and I'm ancient now:-
If I used no disposable plastic at all, which would mean no make-up, I would look like this. Admittedly, this is particularly bad:-
So I have continued to use make-up in my month without plastic.
However, I haven't used razors. I am therefore so hairy, I look as though I have taken four steps back down the evolutionary scale:-
Oh, if only this were true. Then we would not be in the environmental mess we are now in...
But there we are.
That's all I have to say. A plastic-free life is not gorgeous at the superficial level but it is gorgeous at an Earth level. But there are limits, and I haven't been able to take it that far. I won't add further comment on the 21st-century demands of a female aesthetic, and how we ought to rethink perceptions of beauty towards the beauty of a healthy earth rather than the beauty of people, because that would be at least a PhD thesis in length and I am never doing another PhD in my life. Ever. Not even a worthwhile one like that.
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