Wyn Drabble
Let’s break the mould on plethora of plastic
Istill sometimes forget and I arrive at the supermarket without my designer, reusable, bio-degradable, primitive art-adorned, kosher, lowsalt , high-fibre carry bags.
There’s really no excuse, especially since I have been a plastic bag avoider since long before the ban was enforced.
My usual ploy when I forget my bags is to look for a supermarket employee unpacking, say, packets of biscuits in the biscuit aisle. I meekly admit my error and ask if I might . . . possibly . . . if it’s no trouble . . . as long as nobody else is waiting . . . have the carton once it is empty. That becomes my carry bag.
I don’t regard the banning of plastic bags as an inconvenience; it had to happen. There’s no argument about it and you’re surrounded by evidence.
The strongest images in my mind come from at least a decade ago. As I drove through the barren ochre landscape that forms much of Morocco, black plastic carry bags rolled like tumbleweeds across the terrain, many becoming snagged on spindly bushes.
The other image comes from the Pacific. There was I snorkelling in the crystal clear waters of the Yasawa
Islands off the mainland of Fiji hoping to spot, in their natural environment, neoncoloured fusiliers, clown fish, anemone gardens, turtles and unidentified psychedelic sea creatures.
What I saw was Winston Peters, also wearing a snorkel. No, I jest. It was worse. I saw, floating in the gentle current so their movements were almost balletic, plastic carry bags, plastic tabs from six-packs and plastic drink bottles. None of these is indigenous.
So, taking up arms against this sea of troubles is not an option. But the supermarket carry bag ban is only the tiniest beginning — as I now set out to show.
Clutching my rattan reusable, I entered via the fresh produce section. Here I use the word “fresh” in its broadest sense as I’m sure they do.
Seldom do I buy produce from the supermarket but, if I had, my raspberries, strawberries, cherries, blackberries and grapes would have all come, for my convenience, in plastic punnets topped with plastic wrap.
Green beans were in plastic bags and the telegraph cucumbers wore what I shall provocatively call plastic protection.
All bags on offer were plastic apart from very few small paper bags near the mushrooms. Even potatoes were in plastic bags!
Let’s be fair. I also noticed a central stall bearing a pyramid of glossy, sizematched aubergines. It was a plastic-free oasis in a world of packaging shame but, alas, I was not in need of aubergines.
Alison’s Pantry is a favourite stop but, again, all the bags were plastic. I wonder whether your items would be rejected at checkout if you pinched a few of the mushroom bags for your cashews. It would certainly be easier to write the code number on the bag.
Egg slicers, glue, toothbrushes and toilet bowl disinfectant-colouring attachments all came on harmless enough cardboard bases but were rendered almost impenetrable by a moulded plastic covering. The only successful purpose of this appears to be to break fingernails when trying to remove it.
While supermarkets may not personally be to blame they are part of the chain so must play their part too. So, here’s what I think we should do.
After payment, we remove the moulded plastic coverings and anything else we can dispense with. We leave it with the supermarket to deal with.
Admittedly it may end up in the landfill but if we keep at it the message will get through.
If you’re an ardent supporter of this campaign, you might bring your own glass bottles and empty the plastic milk into them.
Worth a go? Join me.
" I saw, floating in the gentle current so their movements were almost balletic, plastic carry bags, plastic tabs from sixpacks and plastic drink bottles. None of these is indigenous."