I'll do my green bit if they do theirs

[Guest guest]

Excerpt from a comment article in yesterdays Times, makes some valid observations: Janice Turner If we want to win this eco-war, the Government has got to get tough with supermarkets and manufacturers EVERY MORNING, when the house has emptied off to school and work, I wander from room to room switching off lights. No one abides by my bedside lamps directive or my post-flush bathroom blackout order. So I have my daily ritual, which, although the precise opposite of lighting votive

candles in church, serves a similar function: it is soothing, makes me worship a force greater than myself and leaves me a slightly more righteous person. On Sunday nights I prepare offerings to my green god. He’ll be pleased with the 20lb of old newspapers (I peel the unread supplements from their plastic sheaths). He’s not as fussy as neighbouring deities, doesn’t demand (yet) a minging box of household scraps. But He’s particular about plastic: if a milk carton is OK, what about a punnet? Does He prefer me to wash the jam-jars and bean cans first? And the new garden refuse bin is a worry: will He find the woody bits on the hedge clippings too thick for His mysterious purposes? Green piety is time-consuming

but how virtuous you feel passing neighbouring houses on Monday morning to see bulging bin bags yet no blue boxes. Apostates! Sinners! As for Donna Challice, of Exeter, who bunged any old rubbish in her recycling bins, contaminating the purity of 300 households-worth of waste, a £1,000 fine isn’t nearly enough. She should be shackled beside a conveyor belt in a stinky Materials Recycling Facility picking out rusty ring-pulls and toilet paper inner tubes. Yesterday I received a letter from Thames Water also calling for my devotion. “Let’s beat the drought together,” says managing director Jeremy Pelczer. And while my conscience is clear — we’re an almost repulsively bath-sharing household — I felt slightly irked by his tone. Well, Jeremy, I’ll do my bit, let my lawn shrivel and shove a brick down the back of the lavvy, if your shareholders return the 17 per cent extra profits they’ve pocketed while failing to deliver an adequate supply. Green politics

may have usefully filled the spirtual void where religious faith once lived. Tiny acts — buying fair trade coffee, not cleaning your teeth beside a running tap — help us to feel a measure of control over a black-hole-sized problem. Being busy turns down the cackling inner despair that it’s too late; the planet is screwed already. And good deeds have a cumulative effect: consumer pressure (not corporate conscience) has caused Sainsbury to stop selling unsustainable skate and hake, and to fill its aisles with unbleached kitchen roll. But some days I wonder why I bother recycling my Volvic bottles when gold prospectors in Pascua Lama will soon destroy two Chilean glaciers and poison a whole water system. Are we losing sight of the bigger picture? That it isn’t all up to us. We’re guilt-tripping sleep-deprived mothers to use cloth nappies when we could be insisting that disposable nappy manufacturers create a product that doesn’t take roughly 400 years to biodegrade

and, in the meantime, pay for the landfill. We’re nagged not to leave TVs on stand-by all night — burning 3.1 million tonnes of CO2 a year — but why not have Sony make this lazy-arse function obsolete? And why not demand that toasters and kettles have a minimum ten-year lifespan and can be repaired easily, not have their innards encased in sealed units. Then maybe someone can explain why patio-heaters — a little bit of global warming in your back yard — are still legal? But the Government would rather call upon our consciences than make itself unpopular. Hence its reluctance to bring in water metering, which in the South East at least seems a no-brainer. That private swimming pools can be topped up while I can’t hose off the lime tree sap that is gumming up the innards of my car defies all logic. Stop telling us we should only flush the loo after a No 2: let us pay as we go. And for those who think green laws are bossy and pointless, let us contemplate

the plastic bag. If modern urban life had a flag it would be a supermarket carrier flying from a high tree: ugly, unreachable, likely to remain there long after the last bit of open space has been concreted into a Tesco car park. In South Africa plastic bags are so plentiful in the bushes and fields, they’re known as the national flower. This week Sainsbury boasted it had gone one better than biodegradable bags with carriers made from protein. Wow, what a great use of old animals. They’d spend any amount of money on dubious hi-tech solutions rather than tell consumers the inconvenient truth: you can’t keep chucking stuff away. Four years ago the Irish Republic stopped allowing shops to give plastic bags out for free. Customers now have to pay a 10p tax per carrier, the proceeds being spent on environmental projects. This tax is just enough to niggle you into shoving a few carriers — and who doesn’t have drawers full — into your handbag. The result is 277

million fewer bags flapping around Irish ankles every year. So why is this not done here? Probably because the supermarkets refuse to deal with huffy customers and haughty women who don’t want old-lady rustling in their Prada totes. But we’d get over it in a month. If green is to be our national religion it can’t rely on the faithful few. It must be a Holy War. Peter H

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[Guest guest]

wots a punnet?

peter hurd May 21, 2006 12:46 AM Re: I'll do my green bit if they do theirs

Excerpt from a comment article in yesterdays Times, makes some valid observations:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Janice Turner

If we want to win this eco-war, the Government has got to get tough with supermarkets and manufacturers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EVERY MORNING, when the house has emptied off to school and work, I wander from room to room switching off lights. No one abides by my bedside lamps directive or my post-flush bathroom blackout order. So I have my daily ritual, which, although the precise opposite of lighting votive candles in church, serves a similar function: it is soothing, makes me worship a force greater than myself and leaves me a slightly more righteous person. On Sunday nights I prepare offerings to my green god. Hell be pleased with the 20lb of old newspapers (I peel the unread supplements from their plastic sheaths). Hes not as fussy as neighbouring deities, doesnt demand (yet) a minging box of household scraps. But Hes particular about plastic: if a milk carton is OK, what about a punnet? Does He prefer me to wash the jam-jars and bean cans first? And the new garden refuse bin is a worry: will He find the woody bits on the hedge clippings too thick for His mysterious purposes?

 

 

 

 

 

NI_MPU('middle'); Green piety is time-consuming but how virtuous you feel passing neighbouring houses on Monday morning to see bulging bin bags yet no blue boxes. Apostates! Sinners! As for Donna Challice, of Exeter, who bunged any old rubbish in her recycling bins, contaminating the purity of 300 households-worth of waste, a £1,000 fine isnt nearly enough. She should be shackled beside a conveyor belt in a stinky Materials Recycling Facility picking out rusty ring-pulls and toilet paper inner tubes. Yesterday I received a letter from Thames Water also calling for my devotion. Lets beat the drought together, says managing director Jeremy Pelczer. And while my conscience is clear were an almost repulsively bath-sharing household I felt slightly irked by his tone. Well, Jeremy, Ill do my bit, let my lawn shrivel and shove a brick down the back of the lavvy, if your shareholders return the 17 per cent extra profits theyve pocketed while failing to deliver an adequate supply. Green politics may have usefully filled the spirtual void where religious faith once lived. Tiny acts buying fair trade coffee, not cleaning your teeth beside a running tap help us to feel a measure of control over a black-hole-sized problem. Being busy turns down the cackling inner despair that its too late; the planet is screwed already. And good deeds have a cumulative effect: consumer pressure (not corporate conscience) has caused Sainsbury to stop selling unsustainable skate and hake, and to fill its aisles with unbleached kitchen roll. But some days I wonder why I bother recycling my Volvic bottles when gold prospectors in Pascua Lama will soon destroy two Chilean glaciers and poison a whole water system. Are we losing sight of the bigger picture? That it isnt all up to us. Were guilt-tripping sleep-deprived mothers to use cloth nappies when we could be insisting that disposable nappy manufacturers create a product that doesnt take roughly 400 years to biodegrade and, in the meantime, pay for the landfill. Were nagged not to leave TVs on stand-by all night burning 3.1 million tonnes of CO2 a year but why not have Sony make this lazy-arse function obsolete? And why not demand that toasters and kettles have a minimum ten-year lifespan and can be repaired easily, not have their innards encased in sealed units. Then maybe someone can explain why patio-heaters a little bit of global warming in your back yard are still legal? But the Government would rather call upon our consciences than make itself unpopular. Hence its reluctance to bring in water metering, which in the South East at least seems a no-brainer. That private swimming pools can be topped up while I cant hose off the lime tree sap that is gumming up the innards of my car defies all logic. Stop telling us we should only flush the loo after a No 2: let us pay as we go. And for those who think green laws are bossy and pointless, let us contemplate the plastic bag. If modern urban life had a flag it would be a supermarket carrier flying from a high tree: ugly, unreachable, likely to remain there long after the last bit of open space has been concreted into a Tesco car park. In South Africa plastic bags are so plentiful in the bushes and fields, theyre known as the national flower. This week Sainsbury boasted it had gone one better than biodegradable bags with carriers made from protein. Wow, what a great use of old animals. Theyd spend any amount of money on dubious hi-tech solutions rather than tell consumers the inconvenient truth: you cant keep chucking stuff away. Four years ago the Irish Republic stopped allowing shops to give plastic bags out for free. Customers now have to pay a 10p tax per carrier, the proceeds being spent on environmental projects. This tax is just enough to niggle you into shoving a few carriers and who doesnt have drawers full into your handbag. The result is 277 million fewer bags flapping around Irish ankles every year. So why is this not done here? Probably because the supermarkets refuse to deal with huffy customers and haughty women who dont want old-lady rustling in their Prada totes. But wed get over it in a month. If green is to be our national religion it cant rely on the faithful few. It must be a Holy War.

Peter H

 

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Its a small basket type thingy that strawberries etc come in. The Valley Vegan..............fraggle <EBbrewpunx wrote: wots a punnet? peter hurd May 21, 2006 12:46 AM Re: I'll do my green bit if they do theirs Excerpt from a comment article in yesterdays Times, makes some valid observations: Janice Turner If we want to win this eco-war, the Government has got to get tough with supermarkets and manufacturers EVERY MORNING, when the house has emptied off to school and work, I wander from room to room switching off lights. No one abides by my bedside lamps directive or my post-flush bathroom blackout order. So I have my daily ritual, which, although the precise opposite of lighting votive candles in church, serves a similar function: it is soothing, makes me worship a force greater than myself and leaves me a slightly more righteous person. On Sunday nights I prepare offerings to my green god. He’ll be pleased with the 20lb of old newspapers (I peel

the unread supplements from their plastic sheaths). He’s not as fussy as neighbouring deities, doesn’t demand (yet) a minging box of household scraps. But He’s particular about plastic: if a milk carton is OK, what about a punnet? Does He prefer me to wash the jam-jars and bean cans first? And the new garden refuse bin is a worry: will He find the woody bits on the hedge clippings too thick for His mysterious purposes? NI_MPU('middle'); Green piety is time-consuming but how virtuous you feel passing neighbouring houses on Monday morning to see bulging bin bags yet no blue boxes. Apostates! Sinners! As for Donna Challice, of Exeter, who bunged any old rubbish in her recycling bins, contaminating the purity of 300 households-worth

of waste, a £1,000 fine isn’t nearly enough. She should be shackled beside a conveyor belt in a stinky Materials Recycling Facility picking out rusty ring-pulls and toilet paper inner tubes. Yesterday I received a letter from Thames Water also calling for my devotion. “Let’s beat the drought together,” says managing director Jeremy Pelczer. And while my conscience is clear — we’re an almost repulsively bath-sharing household — I felt slightly irked by his tone. Well, Jeremy, I’ll do my bit, let my lawn shrivel and shove a brick down the back of the lavvy, if your shareholders return the 17 per cent extra profits they’ve pocketed while failing to deliver an adequate supply. Green politics may have usefully filled the spirtual void where religious faith once lived. Tiny acts — buying fair trade coffee, not cleaning your teeth beside a running tap — help us to feel a measure of control over a black-hole-sized problem. Being busy turns down the cackling

inner despair that it’s too late; the planet is screwed already. And good deeds have a cumulative effect: consumer pressure (not corporate conscience) has caused Sainsbury to stop selling unsustainable skate and hake, and to fill its aisles with unbleached kitchen roll. But some days I wonder why I bother recycling my Volvic bottles when gold prospectors in Pascua Lama will soon destroy two Chilean glaciers and poison a whole water system. Are we losing sight of the bigger picture? That it isn’t all up to us. We’re guilt-tripping sleep-deprived mothers to use cloth nappies when we could be insisting that disposable nappy manufacturers create a product that doesn’t take roughly 400 years to biodegrade and, in the meantime, pay for the landfill. We’re nagged not to leave TVs on stand-by all night — burning 3.1 million tonnes of CO2 a year — but why not have Sony make this lazy-arse function obsolete? And why not demand that toasters and kettles have a minimum

ten-year lifespan and can be repaired easily, not have their innards encased in sealed units. Then maybe someone can explain why patio-heaters — a little bit of global warming in your back yard — are still legal? But the Government would rather call upon our consciences than make itself unpopular. Hence its reluctance to bring in water metering, which in the South East at least seems a no-brainer. That private swimming pools can be topped up while I can’t hose off the lime tree sap that is gumming up the innards of my car defies all logic. Stop telling us we should only flush the loo after a No 2: let us pay as we go. And for those who think green laws are bossy and pointless, let us contemplate the plastic bag. If modern urban life had a flag it would be a supermarket carrier flying from a high tree: ugly, unreachable, likely to remain there long after the last bit of open space has been concreted into a Tesco car park. In South Africa plastic bags are so

plentiful in the bushes and fields, they’re known as the national flower. This week Sainsbury boasted it had gone one better than biodegradable bags with carriers made from protein. Wow, what a great use of old animals. They’d spend any amount of money on dubious hi-tech solutions rather than tell consumers the inconvenient truth: you can’t keep chucking stuff away. Four years ago the Irish Republic stopped allowing shops to give plastic bags out for free. Customers now have to pay a 10p tax per carrier, the proceeds being spent on environmental projects. This tax is just enough to niggle you into shoving a few carriers — and who doesn’t have drawers full — into your handbag. The result is 277 million fewer bags flapping around Irish ankles every year. So why is this not done here? Probably because the supermarkets refuse to deal with huffy customers and haughty women who don’t want old-lady rustling in their Prada totes. But we’d get over it in a

month. If green is to be our national religion it can’t rely on the faithful few. It must be a Holy War. Peter H Send instant messages to your online friends http://uk.messenger. To send an email to -

[Guest guest]

ah....thanx

peter VV May 22, 2006 10:36 AM Re: I'll do my green bit if they do theirs

Its a small basket type thingy that strawberries etc come in.

 

The Valley Vegan..............fraggle <EBbrewpunx wrote:

 

wots a punnet?

peter hurd May 21, 2006 12:46 AM Re: I'll do my green bit if they do theirs

Excerpt from a comment article in yesterdays Times, makes some valid observations:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Janice Turner

If we want to win this eco-war, the Government has got to get tough with supermarkets and manufacturers

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

EVERY MORNING, when the house has emptied off to school and work, I wander from room to room switching off lights. No one abides by my bedside lamps directive or my post-flush bathroom blackout order. So I have my daily ritual, which, although the precise opposite of lighting votive candles in church, serves a similar function: it is soothing, makes me worship a force greater than myself and leaves me a slightly more righteous person. On Sunday nights I prepare offerings to my green god. Hell be pleased with the 20lb of old newspapers (I peel the unread supplements from their plastic sheaths). Hes not as fussy as neighbouring deities, doesnt demand (yet) a minging box of household scraps. But Hes particular about plastic: if a milk carton is OK, what about a punnet? Does He prefer me to wash the jam-jars and bean cans first? And the new garden refuse bin is a worry: will He find the woody bits on the hedge clippings too thick for His mysterious purposes?

 

 

 

 

 

NI_MPU('middle'); Green piety is time-consuming but how virtuous you feel passing neighbouring houses on Monday morning to see bulging bin bags yet no blue boxes. Apostates! Sinners! As for Donna Challice, of Exeter, who bunged any old rubbish in her recycling bins, contaminating the purity of 300 households-worth of waste, a £1,000 fine isnt nearly enough. She should be shackled beside a conveyor belt in a stinky Materials Recycling Facility picking out rusty ring-pulls and toilet paper inner tubes. Yesterday I received a letter from Thames Water also calling for my devotion. Lets beat the drought together, says managing director Jeremy Pelczer. And while my conscience is clear were an almost repulsively bath-sharing household I felt slightly irked by his tone. Well, Jeremy, Ill do my bit, let my lawn shrivel and shove a brick down the back of the lavvy, if your shareholders return the 17 per cent extra profits theyve pocketed while failing to deliver an adequate supply. Green politics may have usefully filled the spirtual void where religious faith once lived. Tiny acts buying fair trade coffee, not cleaning your teeth beside a running tap help us to feel a measure of control over a black-hole-sized problem. Being busy turns down the cackling inner despair that its too late; the planet is screwed already. And good deeds have a cumulative effect: consumer pressure (not corporate conscience) has caused Sainsbury to stop selling unsustainable skate and hake, and to fill its aisles with unbleached kitchen roll. But some days I wonder why I bother recycling my Volvic bottles when gold prospectors in Pascua Lama will soon destroy two Chilean glaciers and poison a whole water system. Are we losing sight of the bigger picture? That it isnt all up to us. Were guilt-tripping sleep-deprived mothers to use cloth nappies when we could be insisting that disposable nappy manufacturers create a product that doesnt take roughly 400 years to biodegrade and, in the meantime, pay for the landfill. Were nagged not to leave TVs on stand-by all night burning 3.1 million tonnes of CO2 a year but why not have Sony make this lazy-arse function obsolete? And why not demand that toasters and kettles have a minimum ten-year lifespan and can be repaired easily, not have their innards encased in sealed units. Then maybe someone can explain why patio-heaters a little bit of global warming in your back yard are still legal? But the Government would rather call upon our consciences than make itself unpopular. Hence its reluctance to bring in water metering, which in the South East at least seems a no-brainer. That private swimming pools can be topped up while I cant hose off the lime tree sap that is gumming up the innards of my car defies all logic. Stop telling us we should only flush the loo after a No 2: let us pay as we go. And for those who think green laws are bossy and pointless, let us contemplate the plastic bag. If modern urban life had a flag it would be a supermarket carrier flying from a high tree: ugly, unreachable, likely to remain there long after the last bit of open space has been concreted into a Tesco car park. In South Africa plastic bags are so plentiful in the bushes and fields, theyre known as the national flower. This week Sainsbury boasted it had gone one better than biodegradable bags with carriers made from protein. Wow, what a great use of old animals. Theyd spend any amount of money on dubious hi-tech solutions rather than tell consumers the inconvenient truth: you cant keep chucking stuff away. Four years ago the Irish Republic stopped allowing shops to give plastic bags out for free. Customers now have to pay a 10p tax per carrier, the proceeds being spent on environmental projects. This tax is just enough to niggle you into shoving a few carriers and who doesnt have drawers full into your handbag. The result is 277 million fewer bags flapping around Irish ankles every year. So why is this not done here? Probably because the supermarkets refuse to deal with huffy customers and haughty women who dont want old-lady rustling in their Prada totes. But wed get over it in a month. If green is to be our national religion it cant rely on the faithful few. It must be a Holy War.

Peter H

 

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[Guest guest]

Hi Fraggle / Peter

 

>Its a small basket type thingy that strawberries etc come in.

 

Or possibly a baby pun :-)

 

BB

Peter