We need to give packaging the chop, not trees

TWELVE months of lockdown have left many residues, some good but most regrettable and a few appalling. Among the latter must surely be the annihilation of forests of fine trees to create the millions of square miles of cardboard we have all used for online purchases.

Everything that comes to the door is contained within a one-use cardboard box. That particular industry must have made a fortune.

Where did it all come from? Well, trees. We know where it went. To the tip or the bonfire. At best to recycling. But what a waste, and what a massacre of the forests. It must take about 20 years to grow even a fastdeveloping pine, and seconds for a chain saw to bring it down. Then the logs are hauled away to the sawmills and hopefully saplings planted. But how much can Mother Nature take?

Plastic is not the answer – just another pollutant to our fields, forests and oceans – and, for wildlife, a killer.

The CO, when shopping, refuses all plastic bags, trailing her luggage wheelie behind her. A small contribution but maybe it helps. Then a van draws up with yet more cardboard.

IN A LONG lifetime The Duke of Edinburgh did many favours for this country. There is a chance that in dying he may inadvertently perform one last one. Perhaps Prince Harry’s brief return, alone, will give an opportunity to heal the rift that his clumsily organised departure and dreadful interview with Oprah Winfrey caused. His grandmother has had more than enough heartaches these past two years.

WELL, last Monday marked the resumption after three months of the pub lunch and what a convivial occasion it was. Voices on the phone or letters on the iPad became real people again, though greetings had to be confined to a cheery wave rather than a handshake or an embrace. The waitresses at the Cricketers were again gorgeous – old codgers still notice these things!!

The CO and I have now had our two jabs so we are supposed to have a degree of immunity both as spreaders or catchers. But as our lumpen government tries to sort itself out we have to wait another month before I can take Her Nibs into Beaconsfield, let alone London’s West End, for a candlelit dinner.