When it comes to environmental protests yours truly’s never been one to raise my head above the parapet. During many scores of hours I’ve undertaken voluntary work in the last few years, not one second of time or penny collected has been towards preserving the Earth’s ecosystem.
Not a conscious decision on my part, moreover I tend to leave dissension on that subject to well intentioned eco-scientists. Individuals whose insightful opinions are formed from a baseline of informedness, or at the very least a modicum of subject knowledge. I personally don’t feel enlightened enough on the topic to become an eco-warrior.
If truth be told I’ve not a lot of time for some of these eco-warriors. Not the individuals with genuine intentions to preserve the environment, moreover those of the rent a mob persuasion. Protesters of the work-shy, bearded and intent on causing confrontation ilk….. Actually, in the previous sentence I’ve possibly just accurately described myself!
It’s not what they’re objecting to which I’ve an issue with. My qualms are with their approach and disingenuous commitment towards the cause of which they fight. A bandwagon they jump on because they’re now too old to organise a protest against school uniform. Along with having time on their hands before next week’s rabble-rousing march on Parliament.
I think the only eco-warrior of that ilk I’ve empathised with was a couple of decades ago when I felt a bit sorry for Coronation Street’s Spider. Although that wasn’t because of him being treated shabbily by local authorities during his numerous idiotic protests (including trying to save the Norwegian prawn), moreover sympathy for living with his nattering aunt Emily Bishop.
Anyhow, the reason I felt moved to write about the environment in today’s narrative was after this morning witnessing a disturbing picture on my social media timeline. That captured image one of a dead whale washed ashore on a Philippines beach; included within the flotsam and jetsam emanating from the deceased mammal’s mouth were 40kg’s of plastic bags.
Seeing this deeply thought-provoking and saddening sight set me thinking about the priorities of the human race. A genus that where possible seeks to underpin the wellbeing of future family generations through legacies of property, money and education. Yet large swathes don’t give a second thought to the environmental legacy they’ll leave the very same people.
Acts, it seemed to me, akin to indulging a burning house’s occupants with the tools for an advantageous existence, but not making much effort at extinguishing the fire. Perhaps an over-simplistic and melodramatic simile on my part, however one bearing validity on some level.
Anyway, enough of my self-righteous hypocrisy. After all my carbon footprint is similar size to that of the yeti who the Henderson family adopted on vacation, prior to returning home with Big Foot to Seattle.
That being said, I’m making more of an effort to reduce that footprint. For instance, I no longer utilise plastic bags during our weekly food shop. Groceries now stored in one of the ten ‘bags for life’ purchased at the beginning of January this year.
Ironically, the week after buying the ‘bags for life’ I’d a life threatening heart attack. In fact, a determination to get my £2 worth out of these grocery carriers was one of the driving forces behind my fight for recovery.