Every Little Helps

TA-DA!” Rene cried, looking expectantly at her husband. “What do you think? She’s cut it nicely, hasn’t she?” Geoff looked up from the sink, where he was swirling hot water around a teapot.

“Oh, yes,” he agreed. “It looks lovely.”

She walked over as he emptied the teapot down the sink.

“Where did you find that old thing?”

“In the back of the cupboard,” he replied. “I thought we could start using it again.”

“Really? What brought that on?”

Geoff turned to face her. “Do you know how many teabags go to landfill each year, love? Have a guess.” Rene shrugged.

“I can’t imagine.” “Over ten billion.” His eyes were popping with the sheer enormity of the figure. “And that’s a conservative estimate.

“I heard it on the radio this morning. They were saying how much more environmentally friendly it is to use a pot.”

Rene watched him measure in two spoons, then pour on boiling water.

Giving the pot a stir, Geoff tapped it with the spoon.

“I’m using this towel,” he said, wrapping it around the pot. “I couldn’t find our old tea cosy.”

“I’m not surprised.” Rene laughed. “It must be thirty years since we used it. Last time I saw it, little Kellie was wearing it as a hat.”

Sliding the teapot on to the tray, Geoff picked up the milk and slopped a little into two cups.

“I thought everyone put teabags under their rhododendrons,” she said, watching absently as he began to pour.

“Apparently not,” Geoff replied. “According to the chap on the radio, most people just throw them away.”

“But don’t they just rot down?”

“Well, they do,” he acknowledged. “Eventually. Some are made from a type of plastic, though, so they don’t.

“Mostly they make them from filter paper which comes from something called abaca.” “Abaca? What’s that?” “It’s the inside of the stalk of the banana plant,” he explained.

“Wow,” Rene replied. “I never knew that.”

“Nor me.” Geoff stirred his tea. “I think we should all be doing something to help the environment where we can. Every little helps.” “Absolutely,” she agreed. Geoff picked up his cup, cradling it in his hands.

“If everyone did this, we could save all that waste. It only took five minutes to make a pot, and it tastes better, too.”

He took a long slurp, while Rene waited patiently for his expression to change.

“I was wondering if you’d remember the teastrainer,” she said innocently.

He pulled a face. “Oh, of course. I’d forgotten that. Where is it?”

With a loud clatter, the contents of the cutlery drawer flew to one side.

“We don’t have one. I threw it away years ago.” “Right.”

Geoff grabbed an empty envelope and snatched up a pen.

“We’ll make a list,” he said briskly. “Tea strainer.”

His pen scribbled furiously.

“Bread knife. No more of that sliced stuff. We’ll make our own and slice it ourselves. It’s cheaper and it’ll save on packaging.” She smiled.

“You can make bread, can you?”

“Can’t you?”

Rene shook her head. “Never had to.”

“And there,” Geoff said, “is the problem. We’ve all become too lazy.

“We wouldn’t have caught our mums buying sliced bread.”

“My mum couldn’t wait,” Rene murmured.

“Yes, well, they didn’t make so much waste back then. And from now on, neither are we.”

Rene slid her arms around his neck.

“I do hope you’re not getting careful,” she said gently.

“It’s nothing to do with money,” Geoff told her.

“Though I’m bound to say it wouldn’t be a bad idea to consider our retirement.”

He cradled her face in his hands and kissed her.

“I must get on.” He sighed. “That garden’s not going to dig itself.”

Rene leaned back to stare at him.

“Garden?”

Doing their bit for the environment was harder work that Geoff had imagined!

“I’m going to dig it over and plant some veg. Maybe we’ll have some fruit trees as well.”

Walking into the lounge, Rene stared at her beautiful garden: her pride and joy.

It was mostly lawn, with one or two flowering shrubs and raised beds, so it was a very low maintenance garden.

It was her sanctuary, her haven, her peaceful little oasis in an ever-busy world. “Where?”

“I thought the top part of the lawn,” Geoff replied, appearing beside her. “It’s far too big anyway. When do we use it?”

Rene’s heart sank. “When the grandchildren come round?”

“I’m thinking of the grandchildren,” he replied.

“They can all learn to grow their own veg. It might come in handy for them one day.

“Youngsters these days are all over the environment, you know. They’re far more clued up on it than we were.”

“Maybe we were too busy playing,” Rene pointed out.

Geoff grinned.

“Yes, they were great days, weren’t they? Do you remember all the kids outside on Christmas Day playing with their new toys?”

“Yes.” Rene smiled at the memory. “Bikes and scooters, dolls’ prams . . .”

“Roller skates,” Geoff put in, laughing. “Well, from today, we’re turning over a new leaf, Rene.

“We’ll grow all our own food and be much healthier, too.

“Think of all the packaging we’ll save. We all all have to do our bit.”

He put a hand on her shoulder.

“Want to help in the garden, love?”

Rene looked at him. Geoff was right, of course; everyone did need to do their bit, but there were several things she’d wanted to do that afternoon.

“I think I’ll give that a miss,” she replied. “I’m, um . . .”

Think, she told herself.

“I’m going to do some cooking,” she said at last. Geoff’s face lit up. “Cooking, eh? A spot of home baking?”

“Yes.” Rene nodded. “Yes. That’s what I’m going to do.”

“Wonderful! I can smell that bread already. Nice bit of crusty bread, fresh out of the oven.”

He rubbed his hands in anticipation.

“It’ll be just the thing after an afternoon’s digging.”

“Well, it might take a while if you want bread,” Rene warned her husband.

“I’ll have to go to the shops. You need special flour for bread, and yeast. You’ve got to have yeast, haven’t you?”

He nodded slowly. “Yes. You’ve got to have yeast.”

“I’ll nip to the corner shop,” Rene said. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

With one last kiss, he released her and walked across to the back door, where a pair of wellies stood, poised for action.

“Where did you find those?” she asked.

“Back of the shed.” He yanked them on to his feet. “Goodness knows why I haven’t used them more often. See you later!”

The slam of the back door resonated around the house as Rene debated the wisdom of her decision.

Bread? She was going to make bread?

****

Rene dropped three large carrier bags on to the floor, then ambled into the lounge to see how Geoff was getting on.

At the top of the garden a solitary spade stood neglected and abandoned, keeping a silent vigil in the mud.

On the bench sat Geoff, legs stretched in front of him, middle-aged spread at rest.

Best leave the tea for a while, she thought.

She’d make a start on the bread. He looked as though he was going to need it.

When Geoff stepped back into the kitchen, she was putting the dough above the oven to prove.

“That smells good.” He sighed, kicking off his boots. “You can’t beat the smell of new-baked bread.”

“It’s not baking yet,” she told him, hacking congealed dough from the tabletop. “I have to prove it.”

“Oh, right.”

“Then I’ve to knead it. And prove it again.”

“So when do you bake it?”

“A bit later on.” Rene smiled at him. “How’s the garden going?”

“Oh, not too bad,” Geoff replied. “The soil’s a bit hard, what with not having any rain for a bit.

“Might take a bit longer than I thought.”

She watched as he sat down in the chair.

“You look exhausted.” He sighed.

“I am. I’d forgotten what hard work it was. I’m getting old.”

“No, you’re not. You’re in your prime.” Rene squeezed his shoulder.

“What you need is a nice cuppa and a seat by the fire.”

“Ah, the fire,” he replied. “It’s sort of . . . back to basics.”

“What do you mean?” “Basics. While I was hunting for the wellingtons, I came across a load of firewood and I thought, that’s a waste, when we could be getting heat from it.

“Save on the energy bills, see? So I moved the electric one and built a nice fire in the old grate.”

Rene drew in a breath, overwhelmed by a sudden wave of nostalgia.

“Oh, Geoff, a log fire!” Bubbling with excitement, she almost ran into the sitting-room.

“It wasn’t quite as easy as I remembered,” he admitted, as she stared down at a cold grate full of burnt twists of paper and charred lumps of wood.

“I’m afraid it was only later that I remembered fire-lighters,” he added.

“Oh, that’s a shame,” Rene said. “It would have gone quite nicely with the bit of recycling I did at the shops.”

Grinning, Rene nipped into the kitchen and returned with a large box of chocolates.

“I recycled four pounds into these.” Rene giggled.

Geoff stood for a moment, just staring at them. “Chocolates,” he said. “Yes. Your favourites.” She opened a bag and pulled out two pairs of slippers.

“They were on special offer,” she said. “So I got us both a pair.”

“I thought you went to the corner shop.” Geoff frowned, but there was a twinkle in his eye.

“I did, but they didn’t have any strong flour,” Rene explained, “so I had to go into town.

“As I was walking through the mall, I happened to spot these, and I remembered you saying you could do with a new pair.”

She paused for breath. “Of course, they’re more of a two-piece than Greenpeace . . .”

Geoff stared for a moment longer, then burst into laughter and wrapped his arms around her.

“They’re great,” he said. “Thanks. Just the job for my aching feet. What’s for dinner?”

Rene smirked. “Well, that’s the thing. It took me so long to do the bread, I didn’t have time to do any dinner.”

“Oh.” Geoff thought for a moment. “No problem. We can have pizza. The boxes can be recycled.”

“Perhaps we can use them to light the fire,” she whispered. “It should go like a bomb with all that naughty fat on them.” “Good idea!”

Geoff glanced down at the fireside rug. Woodlice scampered among the sooty boot marks.

“Sorry about the rug,” he said. “The logs made a bit of a mess.”

Rene slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured him. “Sometimes, however hard you try, you still leave a carbon footprint.” ■