Confessions of a compulsive litter-picker
As 100,000 join our campaign, MARY ARCHER — who’s been keeping her village clean for 40 years — tells why every single one will make a difference
EACH year, the pair of swans that have made the village millpond at the back of our house their home proudly raise their cygnets along its banks.
Last summer the clever things produced seven offspring. My husband, Jeffrey, and I delighted in watching this elegant family glide across the water each day.
But over the months, one by one those cygnets have disappeared until now there’s just one left. Foxes may be to blame, of course, and you’d like to think some simply ‘left home’, although they seem a little young for that.
However, my theory, having witnessed the distressing sight of one of Mrs Swan’s children collapsed and gasping for breath at the water’s edge a few weeks ago, is that litter has played an insidious role in their demise.
It’s a claim I feel qualified to make. I routinely go into the pond in my waders and pull out all sorts of rubbish: crisp packets; the plastic rings that hold canned drinks together; beer bottles; soggy tissues; make-up wipes; even condoms — I could go on.
That’s why I’m almost certain the beautiful creature my friend heaved out of the water, cradling it in his arms as it died, ate some such discarded item before I could get to it. A life lost, probably because some thoughtless person flung rubbish from the window of their passing car instead of taking it home with them.
Threat
Litter really is the most dreadful blight on our landscape. As Prince William said when he was urging volunteers to sign up for the Great British Spring Clean, run by the charity Keep Britain Tidy and supported by the Mail, it’s more than an eyesore, it’s a threat to the health of our environment and our wildlife.
I’m so thrilled that more than 100,000 people have signed up around the country to come together and pick up litter in their communities (and you can too at gbspringclean.org).
Having felt this way about litter for more than 40 years, I’m delighted this newspaper is turning a spotlight on an issue I hold so dear, encouraging people to fight back and start picking up the wretched stuff.
A word of warning to them, though: litter-picking becomes quite the habit, and I should know. I’ve been bringing it home with me since the Seventies, starting when I used to take my sons, then very small, out in their prams.
I remember, back then, looking down in a way I simply hadn’t before the boys came along, to become aware of the sweet wrappers and cigarette butts that spoilt the pavements.
I don’t recall noticing much litter prior to that, probably because there was less of it. My feeling is that litter has developed as an unfortunate by-product of our ‘useitthen- chuck- it’ culture, and also because of the way people snack so much while on the move.
Over time, the fact that I couldn’t walk past a piece of rubbish without picking it up became a family joke — and about 35 years ago, Jeffrey presented me with a stainless steel spiked pole with a carved wooden handle, to try to speed up the process in the hope that I’d stop lagging behind on walks.
I still have it, but I don’t always use it. That’s because I often find myself scrambling down embankments and into ditches to get to the crisp bags, drink cartons and sandwich wrappers that accumulate there. I often find it easier to pick the stuff up with my hands.
Unsurprisingly, I’ve suffered plenty of scratches and often return home pretty dirty. But there’s no point in being precious about it. I just give my hands a good wash and put my clothes straight into the washing machine, pleased that I’ve made my little bit of a difference.
Idyllic
Looking back, I very much doubt my sons will have rejoiced at their father’s fancy litter-picking gift to me all those years ago. When they were young I was choirmistress at our local church, and my pair of naughty little choirboys absolutely hated how I’d insist on collecting litter on our walk over there.
‘Oh Mummy, you can’t take all this rubbish into church,’ they would wail. Which I didn’t — I always left it in the porch to collect on our way out.
The boys are in their 40s now, with children of their own. When I take my two little grandsons and granddaughter out on walks, they take it as read that I’ll pick up litter as we go. It’s simply what their grandmother does — and they join in.
I’m glad of that. After all, litter-picking is a jolly good habit to get into, and one I couldn’t now break even if I wanted to. I home in on the glint of an abandoned bottle in sunlight, or the corner of a sweet wrapper glimpsed in a hedge, and I just have to grab it.
However much my family tease me, this is the kind of behaviour we ought surely to encourage in ourselves and our children. How else will we prevent all this detritus choking our beautiful planet and our poor wildlife?
Litter defiles a place, rural or urban, and degrades it. I feel offended by litter wherever I see it, but most of all when it spoils a beautiful village like ours.
We live in Grantchester, which provides the bucolic backdrop to the popular ITV detective drama of that name. More than a century ago the poet Rupert Brooke, in whose former home Jeffrey and I live, described life here as idyllic. It still is.
Indeed, it is such a lovely place that Grantchester was attracting tourists wanting to enjoy picnics on our riverbanks long before the programme came out. Litter has always been a problem, but the popularity of the show means
we now have even more visitors, which means yet more rubbish left behind.
I could complain all day about how dreadful this is, but I prefer to do something about it. So each weekend, when I go out for a run, I take a carrier bag with me so I can litter-pick on my way home. I always fill it.
Last Sunday I went for a walk and took two bags with me for a more concerted effort. I was out for less than an hour, covering no more than two miles, and returned with both bulging. My filthy haul included a dirty nappy, pulled out of a hedgerow at Byron’s Pool, where Rupert Brooke and the novelist Virginia Woolf once swam naked.
Sadly, some visitors today leave more than pieces of their hearts behind at this beauty spot. I once felt compelled to climb over fencing to pull crisp packets and cans from the water. It wasn’t safe, of course, but how could I just walk past?
It’s the same when I see a used condom — disgusting, I know, but I don’t see much point in getting squeamish about it; one just has to remove the offensive item.
In the past I’ve come across discarded clothing, too. Sometimes, if it still looks wearable, I take it home, wash it and put it in a bag for the vicar’s jumble sale.
My actions have a real impact on the environment in which I’m so privileged to live, and it’s nice that people often take time to thank me as they pass. It’s good to know that it’s appreciated.
Several times a year, the villagers get together to do an organised clean-up, and I join in with those too.
I occasionally wonder who the litter louts who sully our landscape might be. I can’t imagine anyone who lives here doing it, so I can only presume they are people passing through who have no respect for the planet.
Strangely, I’ve never seen anyone actually drop litter. If I did, I’d find it difficult not to pull them up over it. Actually, I’d have to fight the urge to tip them headfirst into the nearest bin.
But that it’s done so furtively says it all, really — those who litter clearly know they are doing wrong. Yet they carry on regardless.
The rest of us, though, should remember that we are not impotent in regard to litter. We can make an enormous difference simply by picking it up. What better illustration of the power of the individual to make a change?
MORE than 100 councils are supporting the Great British Spring Clean as communities unite in the war on litter.
Local authorities from Aberdeen to Cornwall have joined the push to tidy up Britain – and helped volunteer numbers hit six figures.
As of last night, a remarkable 106,406 people had signed up for the Great British Spring Clean, which the Daily Mail is promoting in partnership with Keep Britain Tidy.
The army of volunteers recruited in just over three weeks is in part thanks to at least 102 councils who have promised to take part. We are aiming to enlist half a million people to take to streets, beaches and parks to pick up litter between March 22 and April 23, in what should be the largest environmental event of the year.
Councils are urging their residents and schools to take part in communal litter picks, which, as well as tidying up local areas and helping native wildlife, can act as social events. Authorities told the Mail yesterday that it was ‘inspiring’ to see communities working together, and many said they would provide litter-picking equipment and encourage residents to ‘make a difference’.
The council areas pledging support for this year’s event range from inner-city boroughs to those of outstanding natural beauty.
And yesterday, 250 mosques across Britain pledged to take part in street cleans on Sunday. Harun Khan, Secretary General of the Muslim Council of Britain, said: ‘Whatever faith or background you come from, care and cleanliness for our local environment is a unifying force that brings communities together.’
The initiative has been backed by some big names, including Theresa May, Sir David Attenborough, the RSPCA and the United Nations. The Daily Mail has also highlighted the scourge of global plastic pollution with its Turn The Tide On Plastic campaign.