Plant pots, hedges and human learning - or not...

Faced with plastic engulfing the planet and my feeble question at the garden centre as to why plants can't be put in small cardboard, decay-gradually-into-the-Earth type pots being met with a shrug and a 'people won't pay for an alternative to plastic' response, I was reduced to near tears of wonder at the sight of this...

A small maize plant - two actually, in a recycled cardboard pot as sold by our local bio store. All the plants in the shop were happily growing in their snug little pots, and yes, they were probably more expensive than yr average plastic 'godet' but I reckon most people might be willing to pay an extra few pennies to know they weren't adding to the local 'let's pretend we're going to recycle your plastic' landfill/burning operation, and that they might be supporting a company interested in protecting what environment we have left... 

                                            Our very contented potato plants in their mulchy bed

After watching many permaculture/food forest Youtubes I've taken to building 'Buttes' or mounds of compost, hay, leaves, grass cuttings, etc as an experiment to see what likes being encased in a mulch rather than exposed to climatic ravages in bare earth - and it is bare here currently, far too little rain. Our neighbour farmers are busy ploughing with vast tractors, watering in wind and sun at the hottest part of the day and perhaps wondering why everything dries out so much - could be to do with the fact that there are virtually no hedges left... in fact, I was reading about an environmental activist living in a shed on a remote Scottish island who recalls his first stirrings of nature-demise incredulity were as a kid when he heard that farmers were paid to dig out hedges.

There is the sight of small (very small) movement here - the local councils awarding grants to farmers to put hedges back in... we live and learn, possibly.

There is no hope

Well, hopefully there is hope, a bit anyway but at moments like this - when I went in to a hypermarket earlier mainly to use their loo - one does despair. A glass of freezing coke from a frosted bottle on a boiling day is a treat I indulge in maybe three times a year, knowing that my teeth and in fact the rest of me will thank me for not washing down the thirty-nine grams of sugar contained in the mysterious brown liquid more frequently than that.

But that's just part of it. No one needs to drink coke, or any other soda. Look at the sheer enormity of the plastic used to fill just one supermarket's allotted coke aisle. A massive aisle of it! Just this one product. Plastic bottles, plastic packaging, sugar, colouring, caffeine, landfill. Ignore the science. Ignore the warnings. Just keep raking in the money.

Rant over. I'm going to sit down with a book and a lovely glass of tap water.

Buddhism and boot sales

Vide grenier, in this case - literally, empty your attic. I've blogged about these events many times as they figure quite high on our list of activities. Not quite so much lately as I'm in a bit of a purge phase feeling a move may be on the horizon . . .
Anyway, we did go to one this morning, and quite exceptional it was in its leafy, sun-dappled autumn way - held on a piece of ground next to the rugby stadium which has thoughtfully placed ancient plane trees for shade.
Sometimes on approaching a Vide Grenier I have an overriding sense that it will be a waste of time - an ocean of plastic and baby garments; this one had an air of possibility. Lots of great clothes, which we didn't have time to rummage through as Mark had a rehearsal in the afternoon, but within five minutes we had deniched (uncovered) several bargains.
Little worn Italian leather boots for two euros, a selection of videos including three volumes of Betty Boop; Casablanca, Grease and a bio-pic by Clint Eastwood and an excellent Paul Auster novel all for ten euros, and a beautiful unused Japanese metal teapot with stand for three euros.



Such joy.

So, the Buddhism bit . . . or Stoic, or anything else that encourages us to live in the moment. I equate the Vide Grenier experience as being similar to walking - except walking is healthier and generally requires no money being spent unless one happens upon a tea shop (unlikely in France) - in that one enters a small space of time where general worries and planning disappears as one peruses other humans' weird and wonderful/not wonderful collections of stuff. Of course there are moments (for me anyway) of: Holy shit, look at all this stuff - landfill, panic, there is no hope, etc, but on the whole it's a gentle, harmless and lazy Sunday morning activity which swages the desire to consume and recycles otherwise neglected things which would probably have headed to the bin.



re-homed teapot with its new companions.

Plastic rant . . .

I have to have these from time to time, and THIS really warrants one.

We all (or most of us) now realise that endlessly producing billions of plastic containers every day is totally unsustainable and polluting - to say the very least.

We all use plastic  - this keyboard I'm typing on, the car bumper I tied back on with wire this morning (rather proud of that), train seats, plane seats, televisions, audio-equipment, fridges, washing machines, guttering, drains, food containers, the everywhere water bottles and just about everything else. Should we not be cutting back on unnecessary products rather than producing more and more CHOICES, to thus use plastic for essentials like medical equipment?
Yes, there is an argument re jobs in such sectors as body-care products but maybe there just isn't a choice any longer. Hair = a shampoo product, and it's now possible to buy solid shampoo in a cellophane wrapper. We have some and it's great. Clothes = a need to wash them. Get a refill at your local eco store. It's less expensive and does the job.
And we move on to the subject of this particular rant. Fabric conditioner - with a big CON. This must be one of the cleaning companies most heralded products. An extra substance to dunk clothes in for really no reason. Meadow Sweet, Island Oasis, Snuggle, Final Touch - quite an appropriate name, perhaps - Downy, Fluffy, Fleecy, Comfort, Lix (ugh), Purex, and of course the massive Lenor range.
One or two products might suffice? Nope. A whole new range in even more shiny thick plastic bottles has appeared in our local supermarket.
I only went in to get a cube of yeast and some dog chews but stopped transfixed by the in-your-face and will-be-in-your-bag display featuring (bizarrely) a wolf and an erotic version of Little Red Riding Hood - I think.
Imagine the meetings, the trays of Danish pastries, the gallons of coffee consumed while ad-execs agonised over the names and colours of these useless and planet-knackering products.



The perfume of secrets - whaaat? Covering up some old poo stain on a toddler's trousers? Séduisant - seducing fabric softener? I Suppose they are trying to move away from cosy, soft and comforting?

                           

                                                                            Kiss.
              This really should being in Ann Summers shop and be called Sweat Liqueur

                                          

                                                             Charm and mystery.
Come on . . . you could have been a little more imaginative, surely? Alien-craft sex-chamber; the lost jewels of the Queen of the great oceans?

                                          

                                                                           Blush
                                                And you should, Proctor and Gamble.

Governments should ban this water-polluting, land-fill garbage. Iron clothes if you want them soft, and if they smell a bit unlike a spring meadow, a woman dressed in a red cloak or a wolf (?) so what.

I've just found an old Lenor ad I recall from way back featuring a housewife wracked with guilt over her daughters' prickly nightdresses. Will post for a comparison . . .

Things-phobia

I seem to be suffering from an increasing sense of panic every time I walk into a supermarket. I try to avoid them but for certain things like dog biscuit and bulk-buy tins of tomatoes and 'fosse-septique (cess-pit) cleaners they are useful.
We buy most of our stuff in a small co-op organic shop down the road - yes, it's more expensive, but . . . it isn't, as the nature of shopping there compared with the grocery-sheds is utterly different. I go in and buy milk, veg, flour etc, and don't get distracted by anything else NEW, or on special offer, or 'oo, that looks nice, maybe we should try it, and we could use a couple of new mugs, and, well, I suppose we could have a bottle of fizz, and maybe a cake, and some ice-cream, and the towels are looking a bit sad; look, they've got green ones in, those would look good in the bathroom . . . STOP! what did we come in for? Dog biscuit and shoe polish.' Yes.
The worst aspect of the sheds/shopping cathedrals is the amount of plastic everywhere, especially in the home-care and toiletries sections. What do we really need for both cleaning ourselves and our dwellings? Not much. Some soap, a basic shampoo and a clothes wash/washing-up substance.
This picture is of a locally made product called VAM, made of vinegar, herbs and water. It's brilliant; I wash surfaces, floors, showers, etc, with it, and if you want some heftier cleaning - add bicarb of soda. Job done, and you can take the bottle back and refill it.




We NEED more of these products, and more ways of re-using containers - for everything. It's mind-numbingly terrifying to read about the amount of plastic that ends up each day in our oceans. I've started taking a bottle of TAP water out in preference to buying yet another small individual bottle of water shipped from hundreds of miles away - like Scottish spring water in our local French airport - uh?
We are mostly all blessed with clean drinking water and it's just advertising hype that keeps the pressure on to buy 'pure mountain' water.
Apparently, more than 60 million plastic water bottles are thrown away to end up in landfill and incinerators every day . . .

small steps

Although my adopted country has, and practices, certain things that I feel disturbed/disgusted by: fois gras, Marine Le Pen, ultra-bureaucracy (well, it was invented here) bof, etc, there are many wonderful things: cheese, bonjour Madame, empty countryside and a certain bloody-minded - 'right let's do this attitude' which occurs sometimes, for example when our local small train route is threatened each year - "Quoi? Mais NON! You weel not take our tiny train away from us - eet is our right to ave zis!"
I was a bit mystified when the smoking ban in bars/cafés came into force. I'd imagined mass rioting: "Mais NON! c'est pas possible - we 'av zer right to fill our lungs wiz ow you say tarmacadam."
But no, the ban seems to have stuck and with no apparent fuss. Perhaps most people realised it was actually a more pleasant experience to enjoy one's fois gras with an accompaniment of fresh air, not a fuggy cloud . . .
Anyway - small steps: hurrah for La France! It has been decreed - no more plastic plates, cutlery and cups! Moving slowly towards reducing some of the terrifying amount of discarded apres-nosh garbage, although apparently this won't come into effect until 2020 by which time a landfill area of about the size of Bordeaux will no doubt be occupied by the stuff - still it is a start.
Here's a pic I took of a few bits of packaging gracing our home, two of which are usual to the eye, and depressing, and two of which I was impressed and intrigued by.

                              

Tomatos in a plastic . . . thing. Why? Why not in cardboard with a cellophane covering? Cost I suppose, and tomato protection to a certain extent. But if there was a ban on plastic packaging there would have to be an alternative. Why did we buy them then? Hm, good question - think it was because all the 'en vrac' (loose) ones from Holland looked scarily genetically engineered. Will try harder!

Organic chilies (or they were until we ate them) in a poly tray with cling film . . . organic! Surely they really could be in a small waxed cardboard tray? cheese-box balsa wood stuff? a cellophane packet?

Then, these two:

Very unusually, a pot of cream cheese in a waxed cardboard pot - not even a plastic lid!! Amazing!

And, a TIN of body/face cream- I love this stuff; mainly composed of almonds and probably a load of water, it costs about two euros, does the job, and the pot will rot down, or you can keep screws or something in it afterwards - well you could in the plastic version, but there's something very satisfying about small metal pots with screw lids . . . don't you think? No? (Yes, I need to eat something -writing this dangerously beyond lunchtime).

The company - Le petit Marseillais probably have a factory the size of Luxembourg, and unfortunately all of their other products seem to be encased in plastic - how did this one escape into tin/aluminium or whatever it is? Why can't they produce more stuff, or perhaps less stuff (we all have FAR too much choice!) in the tin-type material. Actually . . . I'll ask them, when I've had lunch - Oh, it's Sunday. Tomorrow then.

The mysterious allure of knobbly gold-chocolates

Perhaps it's the same elsewhere, but France's supermarket shoppers seem obsessed with Ferrero Rocher. We usually receive a box or two from Mark's piano students, but this year there were many boxes under the tree, including the most landfill-esque version we have yet seen: a giant, thick plastic cone, I suppose meant to resemble a diamond . . . this shouldn't be allowed under packaging laws - if any actually exist.

                                               

Amongst the many mysteries in the world sit questions surrounding F.Rocher: why do people buy them? They taste like . . .well, a blob of Nutella with sand in it. The actual nut is fine, but I'd rather just have a bag of hazelnuts and forget the sugar, gold foil and gleaming plastic.
It's kind of people to give Mark a present after a year of lessons, but why not other chocolates? Our biggest local supermarket had a chocolate section far bigger than the fruit and veg area; towering displays of everything from milk/dark selection boxes to chocolate covered hamsters, so why purchase F.R? Is it the marketing? the safety in buying something that is recognised/everyone will like (not); the price? - I had a look out of curiosity, and, nope, lots more quality-branded stuff at similar or cheaper - so . . . I think it must be a present list thing - check list: ah yes, fifteen presents to buy for not immediate friends or family, "grab fifteen boxes, Anton," done.
Other chocolates sitting about in the house call out: "Eat me . . . come on, you know you want to." But the Nutella blobs don't have this effect on me, or on other members of the family (maybe the dogs, but I haven't offered them any, hounds being allergic to choc apparently). Mark half-heartedly ate one or two, but the boxes were destined to stay un-opened/be re-gifted until we had an idea of creating a festive pud with them, as no-one had got around to making a more traditional one.

So: Ferrero Rocher red fruit and custard surprise.

Get a big bowl, put knobbly chocs and cream in and beat (I liked this bit) with a rolling pin, put in glasses, add a layer of red fruits, a layer of crême anglaise and a blob of cream on top.

  

                             

Proof

That the world is a mad and dangerous place.
I went into 'Decathlon' the other day (mega sports shop chain in France, and probably elsewhere) to get a pair of sensible shoes as walking the dogs in flip-flops (me, not the dogs) had become unrealistic in November.
I located the shoe section and then had a quick wander around to look at what people actually buy under the umbrella of sport. Mostly, what one would imagine, if not a bit excessive: bikes, swimwear, fishing clobber, tents, a kilometre of ski equipment, pink girly dance wear - for men too; hiking stuff, etc, but then I ventured into the isle of SNACKS.
You go for a walk or a run. Good. What do you need to replace the water you have sweated out? Water. Bit of fuel? - banana, a handful of dried fruit and nuts?
There was an isle as long as a bus full of alternatives: yellow, blue, pink and orange water substitutes, all incased in future landfill. People must buy this stuff - lots of it, the manufacturers continually producing more effective, and more colourful ways of hydrating.
There are millions of people in this world desperate for a container of pure water, folk who walk miles every day to a stinking hole of tepid water and then return so their family can just about survive.
Jog, run, cycle, hike, but just take a bottle and re-fill it with clean, ordinary, but luxurious tap water.

If household objects could talk.

From the left:

Shit. I mean, what is the point of it all?
  
Grrrrr.
  
Uh?
  
Ooo I say.
  
Er . . . I wonder if I left the gas on?

So, you got a problem then?

Yes - in fact, we all have as we were made in the twentieth century - well, him at the end, possibly in the nineteenth - meaning, we are all destined to become landfill, whatever the guy who brought you downstairs told you.

Advertising and the cat food industry

I was feeding our cat some supermarket sludge this morning and suddenly remembered a particular cat food ad where the woman is obviously deeply in love with her feline friend. It is, if I remember a very attractive British Blue, but I wouldn't want to do other than tickle it behind the ears for a couple of minutes. The ad has an air of suggesting more.
Unless I am totally deranged (possible) I seem to recall her serving up the delicate plate - complete with a sprig of parsley - in some sort of negligee; mood music, come to bed eyes . . .
What the  . . . Cats were meant to guard the house against rats and mice, not be pampered with parsley; they're not even attracted to green stuff. Which reminds me. Why put carrots and peas in cat food? Padding obviously, and to make us gullible humans think that our beloveds would be healthier if they ate up their veg. Cats torture birds, not green beans: they rip flesh from bones with their pointy canines.
The very worst example of pet food industry product I saw recently was a 'Whiskers' creation for the extra finicky buggers - a purple plastic cat head-shaped food container. Arg! A cat's head. What twerp dreamed that up in the development meeting? How can they sleep at night. The landfill!!
'What did you do this week, darling?'
'I developed a purple cat head-shaped food container'. . .
Do cats respond to purple? Did anyone feel the thickness of the plastic for a portion of cat food about the size of say, a very small mouse, before they launched this absurdity.
The pet food industry must be one of the biggest money makers. Take noxious pulpy entrails, mix with God knows what? substandard cereals, sawdust? newspaper? package in tins with happy, healthy looking domestic beasts and . . . oooh look 500% mark-up?
Going back to our own feline: after nine years or so of trying to find something he will eat without flicking his tail in disgust, before walking away and a dog hoovering it up, I have discovered a range of tins in Leclerc. Basic beyond basic: white tin with a budget cat on it: rabbit or beef flavour at about 30 centimes!

He likes it; he's liked it quite a few times. Same sludge as the posh stuff, I'm sure. So budget sludge, some crunchy things, some fresh off-cut meat, and some prey from the garden. At last I think we've got it.
Incidentally . . . the word negligee means 'négligé, literally, 'neglected'. Odd . . . thank you Wikipedia. Another one of those French words that I had never linked to its root meaning.