My Life As A Green Super Hero

Taking small measures to the extreme to help save the planet.

Forget Greta Thunberg. I am the world’s leading climate change campaigner. Well, since last month. That’s when we had the solar panels installed, linked to an app on my phone.

Now, wherever I am, I can open the app and see how much electricity we are creating and how much we are consuming. Right now, we’re exporting 2.37 kilowatts to the grid.

Lolling in my chair at work, I luxuriate in the feeling. Yes, I’m saving the planet. More to the point: I’m making upwards of ten cents an hour, DOING NOTHING. If this keeps up, I could be a dollar ahead by the end of the day. Life does not get much better.

Certainly, you have to put in a bit of effort. Ever since I became an energy exporter, I have been patrolling the house, trying to maximise our production.

Yes, I get some complaints from my wife, Jocasta, along the lines of “I was using that light to read a book” or, “Why didn’t you save my work before turning off my computer?” but I think she is grateful for my assistance.

The app displays even the smallest amount of consumption, allowing me to check the savings as I turn off each computer, each light, each appliance, the router. It even calculates how many ‘trees’ I’ve ‘planted’.

The only problem? Just last night, I turned off everything, but – there it was – we were still consuming .05 of a kilowatt.

I checked the fridge. It was not humming, my work sealing the door with packing tape having proved a useful aide-mémoire to everyone. All the overhead lights were out. I’d removed the small light bulb from the doorbell. Nothing was on standby.

Yet there it was, the glowing .05. Maybe there’s a dead rat in the cellar with his teeth around an electrical cable. I hardly sleep, my mind trying to work through every corner of the house.

Back at the office, my workmate suggests I might like to do some work. I understand her point, but find it hard to tear my eyes away from the app.

Right now, it’s midday. Jocasta is at home. She’s supposed to be in her office working but – I glance at the app – our usage is spiking. I feel like calling her and remonstrating: “What are you up to? You’re making tea again, aren’t you?”

I reach for the phone, but my workmate counsels me. “I think that might come over as a bit creepy. You know, a bit controlling.”

“Really?” I say. “But think of the power we could be exporting to the grid if she’d just make do with a glass of water. Plus, when she opens the fridge to access the milk, first removing the packing tape, the fridge might start up again.”

My workmate shakes her head and lets loose a sigh of sisterly solidarity.

Chastened, I leave Jocasta alone, but somehow my thoughts have communicated themselves. I notice the consumption graph dips to almost nothing. We are now exporting 3.35 kilowatts to the grid, planting 0.1 of a tree, and making upwards of 20 cents JUST SITTING HERE.

I check the app once more, keen to further bask in this positive news. Oh no! Clouds overhead! Disaster. We’re

LOLLING IN MY CHAIR AT WORK, I LUXURIATE IN THE FEELING: I’M SAVING THE PLANET

now producing nothing. Nothing at all. And consumption is suddenly through the roof. We’re draining the grid. What’s Jocasta up to? Running an aluminium smelter?

Eventually, my workmate tries again. “If you spend all day looking at the app, you’ll run down the power on your mobile phone, then you’ll have to charge it when you get home.”

I f ind her point enormously compelling. I put the phone away. By the time I’m home, the panels will be producing nothing. The trick will be to wait until morning, recharging my phone when dawn raises its rosy fingers.

First thing in the morning, before the sun hits, I gently rouse Jocasta, serving her a lovely glass of tap water. “Here’s the trick,” I say, as she blinks awake. “When you’re working today, why not write things out in long-hand whenever the clouds come over? Then, when the sun comes out, you could whip over to the computer, turn it on, and quickly transcribe what you’ve written, making sure you watch the sky, in case the clouds come back.”

At this point, she rolls her eyes. Well, I think she rolls her eyes. It’s a bit dark in the bedroom as I’ve not turned on any lights.

As it happens, Jocasta explains, both of us will be heading out of the house. There’ll be no computers on at home all day. No cups of tea. Just the panels humming: the power being exported.

At work, a round midday, I allow myself to check the app, just to calculate how much I’ve earnt, and how many ‘trees’ I’ve ‘planted’.

What? Disaster! Clouds overhead again and yet power still being used. Why, oh why, has Jocasta left the TV remote in reach of the dog? I must have a word with him.

As Greta Thunberg knows, sometimes it’s hard to be ahead of your time.

“IF YOU SPEND ALL DAY LOOKING AT THE APP, YOU’LL RUN DOWN THE POWER ON YOUR PHONE”