annanotbob2's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Feb 2nd aka 02/02/2020 Sometimes I feel very old. A lot of the stuff that's being posted about living a greener, more eco-friendly life seems so obvious to me and then I wonder how I've managed to not notice that young people haven't thought of it. Like a post I saw just now, suggesting that instead of chucking your boots and shoes away when the soles wear down a bit, get them resoled! Ta da! Wear them for longer, maybe even years longer! Get them resoled again - amazing! The comments, though, the fucking comments make me weep, for all these sweet kids so fired up at the idea of keeping their boots alive for, wow, maybe years, but more for all the fuckers that aren't part of this movement, using things briefly before throwing them "away" or "out" which just means away from them, out of sight, into the mountain of unwanted stuff which will last for hundreds of years... My mate M reports being astonished to discover that one of her nieces, a young woman with a good degree and a professional career, had never encountered the concept of eating food that's in season. In season? Wtf? No idea that in a climate like ours there's loads of fruit and veg to be harvested right here from late spring through to early autumn but the rest of the year we're down to the cabbage family and leeks. Everything else has to be either stored somehow or imported from warmer climates. Niece could not get her head round this. She's a sensible, decent person who wants to do right by the planet and by future generations, but really? Not eat strawberries all bloody winter? No, mate. Not even fresh tomatoes. Yet it's not so long ago that this was normal. Dad used to grow loads of veg on his allotment and freeze portions of it to eat through the year. When we were kids we didn't have a freezer, just a tiny section at the top of the fridge with a folded cardboard carton of vanilla ice cream and a bag of frozen peas. Then we had bags of potatoes in the cold, dark garage, strings of onions hanging from hooks, some fruit and veg kept in those kilner jars or bloody cabbages and sprout tops from the garden. I find it very depressing. If the good, clever ones don't know shit, what hope do we have when we think of all the not so bright ones, and the ones who don't give a fuck? I'd like it if when you put your cursor over emojis, it told you what they are. They're so small I can't see what they look like so I've no chance of knowing what they're implying. The optician said there is a slight deterioration in my near vision, but just one lens, or whatever the unit is. Not enough of a difference to spend a couple of hundred quid on new glasses. But I can't bloody read anything, I wailed. Yes, dear, he replied, patronisingly but kindly. You're exhausted, aren't you? I am. So I'm going to bed, just the right side of 1 am.
12:26 a.m. - 03.02.20 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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