My carbon footprint

Can you stick it? Of course you can

Kate Hughes ponders the use of out-of-season lettuce as grounds for divorce

Saturday 15 January 2022 08:22 EST
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Time to turn over a new leaf
Time to turn over a new leaf (Getty/iStock)

There comes a time, with any change of habit, when you get tested. When that new hobby or new commitment or entirely new attitude to life has to demonstrate its staying power.

When it has to transform from a new thing, a paper-thin intention of the people we want to be, to a sturdy, established foundation stone of who we are.

By now, a decent chunk of us have completely abandoned our new year’s resolutions as the back to work/school/reality/January credit card bill makes its presence felt and the ease of slipping back overwhelms the effort of driving change.

Being greener in 2022 is the aim for millions, but the psychology of all this means odds are stacked against us. There’s precious little instant gratification, we’re probably trying to be green in every way possible instantly, which is a massive ask. And we’re typically motivated by concern, fear and other negative emotions. Battling existential threat isn’t the most upbeat way to get into the swing of a new year.

The truth is, though, that after just shy of five years on this road, I had been quietly confident we were past the fighting-the-norm, information-overload, bedding-in stage of going green and were now surely lounging in the gratifying, sanctimonious “ah yes, this is just who we are” bit.

But when my husband – already fed up with winter, Covid and isolation and, I suspect, sole trader cashflow fun – called out as I skipped out of the door to do a food shop safe in the knowledge I was well past day 10, I was still surprised when he asked me to pick up a lettuce. Lettuce? It’s January.

I understand from those in the know about such seasonal situations that you can indeed grow lettuce, outside, in this country for many more months than you may imagine. But January appears not to be one of those months.

Not having the details of growing season extension capabilities of unheated polytunnels immediately to hand, I made an assumption about heated greenhouses and the resultant carbon footprint of said lettuce, not to mention the likelihood of its only availability being of the chopped-up plastic-bagged variety.

I sailed past the salad aisle without a blink. Maybe virus brain fog had got him. The look I got as the shopping bag rummage failed to live up to expectation could have felled a Shetland pony. Was I about to be divorced over salad or, more specifically, a lack thereof?

When it comes to consistently, comprehensively pursuing as green a lifestyle as we could fathom, at all times, I had thought we’d been tried, tested and found reasonably robust when we didn’t budge on the zero waste, no fly, plant-based, and the rest, during the mid-lockdown leukaemia diagnosis month of misery. Surely, if we were going to crack under the weight of carving out a new normal, it would have been then.

With that especially fun bit of character-building life experience under our belts, I hadn’t really seen a fundamental wobble in the fresh veg section coming.

Nor would I have been so concerned about the ramifications of greens if we hadn’t had a stupid argument about toilet roll and its profligate use in place of a good old-fashioned material handkerchief earlier in the day. (He argued hygiene, I stood my ground on the greatly depleted per-use carbon footprint of my dad’s ancient cotton number.)

I’m aware that hand-wringing over a little gem or two is ridiculous in the grand scheme of things. I also know that as these columns carry on there’s a risk I’m coming over a bit bunny boiler. Alright, fine, more than a bit.

But I also know that being green means very different things to different people. It’s the basis of some of our biggest challenges as individual consumers – what the environmentally friendly, eco, green or ESG label actually offers and where the gaps lie.

For any of us to make any consistent, long-term changes for environmental good this year, they have to be sustainable – in every sense of the word. I guess, five years in, it’s high time to double-check we’re all still singing from the same hymn sheet in my house. If only for the sake of a garnish.

‘Going Zero: One Family’s Journey to Zero Waste and a Greener Lifestyle’, by Kate Hughes, is available to pre-order ahead of release on 3 March 2022

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