I've been thinking about football the last couple of days. I'm not a football fan, but it's kind of hard to ignore at the moment. I don't have anything against football, it just doesn't interest me - despite the men in shorts, I'd rather read a book or watch an episode of Gilmore Girls. But, like I say, I've been thinking about football - or, more precisely, footballs.
Pig's bladders 'r' us
What are footballs made of, I wondered? The everyday balls being touted in all the shops look distinctly plastic.
'Inflated pig's bladder,' Bron declares when I ask him about footballs. That's what he reckons the first ever balls were made from.
'I wonder what would happen if in the final of the World Cup, the ref came out onto pitch with an inflated pig's bladder for them play with?' I suggest. Can you imagine? It would be great!
Despite this unlikely scenario, I thought I'd put my investigation head on and find out what footballs really are made of. And, according to Wikipedia, although early commercial footballs were constructed of vulcanised rubber, today's balls are more likely to be leather or - yes, of course - plastic.
Synthetic Leather?
As for the official 2010 World Cup football, Addidas is responsible. It even has it's own name, the Jabulani. SoccerWorld is a font of information - blimey, who ever would have thought I'd be reading SoccerWorld! Their balls, including the Jabulani, are constructed of synthetic leather. Synthetic leather? What's that? Synthetic leather may be made in a variety of ways, but is typically PVC and polyurethane. Hmmm - synthetic leather? Why don't they just call it what it is? Plastic!
Showing posts with label plastic. Show all posts
Showing posts with label plastic. Show all posts
Monday, 14 June 2010
Friday, 5 February 2010
The Little Things
One of the many interesting things about trying to live without plastic is the balance of the big plastic things and the little plastic things.
Big things are the everyday things, like not taking plastic bags when I’m out shopping, finding plastic-free food, or shampoo that doesn’t come in a plastic bottle. And in lots of ways they’re easier to solve than the little things. Once I’ve given them up or found an alternative, that’s pretty much it - well, theoretically at least.
The little things are those items that I don’t use very often, or need only occasionally. New knickers, for instance. I have to buy them singly now, rather than in a pack, because packs tend to come in plastic bags. Or they do in Marks and Spencer’s, which is my staple underwear-buying destination.
This week is a typical example of one of the little things. It is portfolio time on my MA course. That means writing up, printing out, and handing in a big chunk of coursework. Said coursework is expected to be presented in a certain way, all of the pages held together in a nice, neat folder. But could I find a cardboard folder for my work? Could I, heck. Or, where I was lucky enough to track one down, they were in a pack of five that’s sealed in plastic, which rather defeated the object of the exercise.
The solution? No folder was the only solution I could find. I resorted to backing the pile of pages with a piece of plain card, threading the pages together with a piece of ribbon. Hopefully my tutors will find it acceptable… I thought ribbon was prettier than string anyway.
Big things are the everyday things, like not taking plastic bags when I’m out shopping, finding plastic-free food, or shampoo that doesn’t come in a plastic bottle. And in lots of ways they’re easier to solve than the little things. Once I’ve given them up or found an alternative, that’s pretty much it - well, theoretically at least.
The little things are those items that I don’t use very often, or need only occasionally. New knickers, for instance. I have to buy them singly now, rather than in a pack, because packs tend to come in plastic bags. Or they do in Marks and Spencer’s, which is my staple underwear-buying destination.
This week is a typical example of one of the little things. It is portfolio time on my MA course. That means writing up, printing out, and handing in a big chunk of coursework. Said coursework is expected to be presented in a certain way, all of the pages held together in a nice, neat folder. But could I find a cardboard folder for my work? Could I, heck. Or, where I was lucky enough to track one down, they were in a pack of five that’s sealed in plastic, which rather defeated the object of the exercise.
The solution? No folder was the only solution I could find. I resorted to backing the pile of pages with a piece of plain card, threading the pages together with a piece of ribbon. Hopefully my tutors will find it acceptable… I thought ribbon was prettier than string anyway.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
A Plastic Christmas?
So, is it possible to have a plastic free Christmas? Ok, so I expect it is, if you really try, but apparently not for me. Not this year anyway.
To be or not to be plastic free?
As Christmas approached, I found myself debating the different options open to me:
1. try really and genuinely hard to have a totally plastic free Christmas, or
2. view it as an opportunity to treat myself with all those forbidden things I’ve been trying to avoid for the last few months.
Which side of the line do you think I fell? Well, I did want to try, honestly I did, but the closer it got to Christmas the more downhill it went. And do I have a valid excuse for this terrible failure? That probably depends on your perspective. Hopefully, anyone who has ever worked in retail over the Christmas period will be able understand my perspective. It’s awful. Crazy, manic, utterly exhausting. Holiday time? Pah, not likely. All my carefully laid, plastic-free plans went swiftly out of the window as I suddenly found myself in the last week before Christmas with no more time off work to concentrate on anti-plastic presents.
The good and the bad…
There were some successes, though, which I am now going to big-up as best I can in order to make me look better. My plastic-free purchases included: a wooden, heart-shaped photo frame, a wonderful Emma Bridgewater metal lunchbox, beautiful decorated glass earring dishes for each of my sisters-in-law made by Jo Downs, an interestingly shaped vase complete with a bulb to grow in it from Daisy Roots, a brilliant local ‘ecoflorist’. I also made my own Christmas cards using a torn up sheet of reindeer wrapping paper, although I completely ran out of time to post any of them. Oh, and I gave lots of books too, though sometimes I wonder whether there is some form of plastic in the glossy covers.
And the failures? Cds and Dvds were the biggest culprits. A few items had a little bit of plastic packaging – a tea infusion gift set I bought had a small plastic bag inside, and a flagon of cider I bought for my secret Santa offering, though in a glass bottle, had a plastic label. I had intended to try and find alternative wrapping paper that wouldn’t involve any plastic packaging, but ran out of time and ideas; and I originally thought of trying to wrap gifts without sellotape, but again time and energy just weren’t on my side. That really does sound like a pathetic excuse, doesn’t it? I say again, though: retail at Christmas, aarrgghh!
As for treats, well, they came into their own on the food shopping side of things. Roses chocolates, smoked salmon, Pringles, different cheeses… Actually, thinking about it, it’s not as bad as it could have been. Not perfect though, and I haven’t included the gifts I received either. But wouldn’t it be boring if I were infallible?
To be or not to be plastic free?
As Christmas approached, I found myself debating the different options open to me:
1. try really and genuinely hard to have a totally plastic free Christmas, or
2. view it as an opportunity to treat myself with all those forbidden things I’ve been trying to avoid for the last few months.
Which side of the line do you think I fell? Well, I did want to try, honestly I did, but the closer it got to Christmas the more downhill it went. And do I have a valid excuse for this terrible failure? That probably depends on your perspective. Hopefully, anyone who has ever worked in retail over the Christmas period will be able understand my perspective. It’s awful. Crazy, manic, utterly exhausting. Holiday time? Pah, not likely. All my carefully laid, plastic-free plans went swiftly out of the window as I suddenly found myself in the last week before Christmas with no more time off work to concentrate on anti-plastic presents.
The good and the bad…
There were some successes, though, which I am now going to big-up as best I can in order to make me look better. My plastic-free purchases included: a wooden, heart-shaped photo frame, a wonderful Emma Bridgewater metal lunchbox, beautiful decorated glass earring dishes for each of my sisters-in-law made by Jo Downs, an interestingly shaped vase complete with a bulb to grow in it from Daisy Roots, a brilliant local ‘ecoflorist’. I also made my own Christmas cards using a torn up sheet of reindeer wrapping paper, although I completely ran out of time to post any of them. Oh, and I gave lots of books too, though sometimes I wonder whether there is some form of plastic in the glossy covers.
And the failures? Cds and Dvds were the biggest culprits. A few items had a little bit of plastic packaging – a tea infusion gift set I bought had a small plastic bag inside, and a flagon of cider I bought for my secret Santa offering, though in a glass bottle, had a plastic label. I had intended to try and find alternative wrapping paper that wouldn’t involve any plastic packaging, but ran out of time and ideas; and I originally thought of trying to wrap gifts without sellotape, but again time and energy just weren’t on my side. That really does sound like a pathetic excuse, doesn’t it? I say again, though: retail at Christmas, aarrgghh!
As for treats, well, they came into their own on the food shopping side of things. Roses chocolates, smoked salmon, Pringles, different cheeses… Actually, thinking about it, it’s not as bad as it could have been. Not perfect though, and I haven’t included the gifts I received either. But wouldn’t it be boring if I were infallible?
Thursday, 10 December 2009
How clean is your beach?
This is the plastic that Bron and I collected during our Sunday afternoon walk on the beach a couple of weeks ago.
This pile represents less than an hour of selective picking by the two of us – we left behind the big stuff, the water bottles and crisp packets and the things that I wasn’t prepared to touch without a nice, sanitary pair of (plastic?) gloves. And so this pile represents just the tip of the iceberg.How clean is clean?
The beach that we collected this from – Fistral in Newquay, Cornwall – is a clean, tidy, well cared for beach. And yet look at what we found. As soon as you start to look a little closer, it’s right there staring at you.
Mermaid’s Tears
I think what surprised me the most were the nurdles. Perhaps more commonly known as mermaid’s tears, these are basically how raw plastic is transported: little plastic pellets that can then be melted down and melted together to make plastic items. I've included a five pence piece in this picture to give you an idea of their size. They’re tiny, they easily blend in with the sand, and you only notice them once you really start to look hard – and then they’re everywhere. It’s no wonder creatures so often mistake them for food.
And Bottle Tops
Aside from the nurdles, the other type of plastic that seemed to show up more than any other were these cover lids from, probably, bottles of water.
Collecting this plastic was certainly an interesting and useful exercise, but Bron asked me the ultimate question:'What are you going to do with it now?'
I've had to put it in our bin, unfortunately - it really is not too nice and I'm sorry, but I don't want it lying around the house forever. I know I'm just adding to the waste pile, but my reasoning is that at least it'll be marginally better there than kicking around on the beach.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
The Olive Problem
Mmmm, olives are yummy. At least, I think they are – I know not everyone out there would necessarily agree.
There was a time when I bought fresh olives every week and would put them in my sandwich for lunch (I highly recommend them with a bit of Boursin and lettuce on tiger bread), but since July I've had to resist the temptation because, if you want them fresh, they come in little plastic tubs. It’s a bit like the takeaway issue (see my earlier post, Evil Take-out) – the tubs aren’t bad, you can clean them and reuse them, but they never last that long and always wind up in the bin eventually.
The Lunchbox Problem
My lunchbox as a whole has gone through quite a metamorphosis since I started giving up plastic. From a cling-film wrapped sandwich, a couple of Muller Star baby yoghurts, and a Mars bar, it now generally consists of a couple of pieces of bread and… well and nothing. Maybe that explains why I'm always hungry! I’ll add butter or some cheese to the bread when I get to work from my little stash in the staff fridge, then go and get a pastry from Baker Tom or the farmer’s market for something sweet.
Bread and cheese is all well and good, but it does get a little dull after a while. I looked up from my plate the other day to find everyone else in the staff room laughing at me. Apparently, watching me cut up the end of my slightly dried out goat’s cheese into evermore smaller pieces, and then laying them very carefully and precisely onto my measly looking slice of bread is the new and best entertainment in town. So hopefully you can understand it if I tell you I’ve been craving olives lately.
The Olive Solution
But how to have olives without the plastic?
Every Wednesday and Saturday the Farmer’s Market arrives in Truro. Not only do they have the best cake stall ever (The Cornish Mill and Bakehouse), but also the best olive stand. I don’t know their name, but they sell a variety of fresh olives, feta, and baklava. Mmmm.
So yesterday I went along to the olive stall well prepared.
‘I have a weird request.’ This is my standard opening statement to a lot of people these days.
‘I’d like to buy some olives, but would you mind if I used my own tub?’
Easy peasy. Apparently quite a few people bring along their own tubs. Yay! So yesterday I got to have bread and cheese and olives for lunch. Oh, and a chocolate brownie from the cake stall too.
There was a time when I bought fresh olives every week and would put them in my sandwich for lunch (I highly recommend them with a bit of Boursin and lettuce on tiger bread), but since July I've had to resist the temptation because, if you want them fresh, they come in little plastic tubs. It’s a bit like the takeaway issue (see my earlier post, Evil Take-out) – the tubs aren’t bad, you can clean them and reuse them, but they never last that long and always wind up in the bin eventually.
The Lunchbox Problem
My lunchbox as a whole has gone through quite a metamorphosis since I started giving up plastic. From a cling-film wrapped sandwich, a couple of Muller Star baby yoghurts, and a Mars bar, it now generally consists of a couple of pieces of bread and… well and nothing. Maybe that explains why I'm always hungry! I’ll add butter or some cheese to the bread when I get to work from my little stash in the staff fridge, then go and get a pastry from Baker Tom or the farmer’s market for something sweet.
Bread and cheese is all well and good, but it does get a little dull after a while. I looked up from my plate the other day to find everyone else in the staff room laughing at me. Apparently, watching me cut up the end of my slightly dried out goat’s cheese into evermore smaller pieces, and then laying them very carefully and precisely onto my measly looking slice of bread is the new and best entertainment in town. So hopefully you can understand it if I tell you I’ve been craving olives lately.
The Olive Solution
But how to have olives without the plastic?
Every Wednesday and Saturday the Farmer’s Market arrives in Truro. Not only do they have the best cake stall ever (The Cornish Mill and Bakehouse), but also the best olive stand. I don’t know their name, but they sell a variety of fresh olives, feta, and baklava. Mmmm.
So yesterday I went along to the olive stall well prepared.
‘I have a weird request.’ This is my standard opening statement to a lot of people these days.
‘I’d like to buy some olives, but would you mind if I used my own tub?’
Easy peasy. Apparently quite a few people bring along their own tubs. Yay! So yesterday I got to have bread and cheese and olives for lunch. Oh, and a chocolate brownie from the cake stall too.
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