Excess Baggage

In one of her ‘green’ moods, Mrs Dragonfly decided last year that a compost heap was the way to go. As it turned out, it was a good idea, at least a million times better than the one about me helping with the washing-up, and not even on the same planet as the one involving a chicken, an axe, and me.

Not content with just our kitchen cuttings, she roped in the assistance of our guests, leaving a plastic tub in their cabins with the words ‘Organic Waste’. Before we knew it, we had a pile of rotting slime, putrefying happily in a smelly corner of the vegetable plot, and the weeds were looking healthier than ever.

Soon after, and not to be outdone, our Zulu domestic worker hit upon a commendable variation of the theme. Walking into the cabins one morning, we noticed not one, but two containers, one of which had, scrawled boldly on the side, Rubbish Candles Thank You.

‘For what?’ I wondered. ‘For putting them out of their sub-standard misery?’

My beloved’s reaction, in contrast, was one of indignation. ‘Do you know how much I pay for those candles?’ she asked.

Deeper investigation, however, revealed that, far from protesting that inanimate objects had feelings, too, or insulting our shopping habits, our enterprising maid had nothing more sinister in mind than sourcing some cheap (actually, free) floor polish for her home in Loskop.

Perhaps her ingenuity was infectious, because it wasn’t long before, like her, we began joining the dots and asking ourselves awkward environmental questions about the ‘rubbish’ we were throwing away.

Soon, we’d accumulated a shed-full of plastic tubs, but we’d run out of imagination. Did I really want to store my CD collection in them? We started buying our margarine in old-fashioned blocks, which was not only easier on landfill sites, but also considerably cheaper.

This was only the start. Berwin’s chicken was far more economical than the supermarket’s, as were the vegetables and milk at Hillbillies, and came with a fraction of the plastic packaging. Not only that, but we saved on the fuel to Ladysmith/Estcourt/Pietermaritzburg. Beer is far more sociable in quarts, not to mention less wasteful. We print on both sides of the paper. The list goes on.

It occurred to me that being aware of excess, and either eliminating it or recycling it, not only helped save the planet, it also saved us money. ‘Green’ need not mean ‘uneconomic’. This may be one good thing to emerge from the financial crisis, if we can hold on to the good habits when things improve.

My nearest and dearest continues to look for new ways of reducing our carbon footprint, bless her crusading heart, but I noticed her sharpening the axe again yesterday.

‘Oh dear,’ I thought. ‘Whose head this time?’