I remember train journeys. For some reason they stick in my mind. I remember going to Southport as a child and losing my bear. I remember travelling to Scotland and the land was under a blanket of snow (I was visiting a university and had ‘Fisherman’s Blues’ by The Waterboys on my Walkman).
Other times I look through train windows and see a despoiled land that doesn’t seem to give a shit. Other times I look through my car window at motorway verges and roundabouts and see the trash that people have thrown there.
I take the dog for a walk and have to lead her feet around the smashed beer bottle and the Maccie D’s boxes thrown from the passenger seat of a speeding Ford Fiesta.
I walk through London’s parks and see two things: a sign saying don’t leave food for the birds because you’ll attract rats and a homeless man sleeping in the sun.
So what is to be done? Say ‘fuck it’ and throw our own garbage into the hedgerow? Leave our towns and cities a wasteland of industry and consumerism? Accept that those less fortunate than us live like human garbage wrapped in cardboard and plastic in the doorway of Matalan?
I admire those that volunteer, those who tidy up, who plant flowers and crops, those who help those in need. Those that do something instead of blogging and reading blogs.