It slipped out of my hands and onto the tiled floor, silver splinters slithered in all directions. I was devastated, in its frozen state it had cracked, my favourite. I closed the freezer door, my plastic box collection was dwindling rapidly.
I posted a picture with a sad emoji on our Facebook page Post Plastic. Comments were mixed.
‘First World problems, I wish I had any left overs to put in the freezer.’
‘Why don’t you try those waxed cloth wraps, they are a life saver.’
‘But not much good for a litre of homemade soup’ I retorted.
‘Just make what you need.’
‘I am trying to save gas by batch cooking.’
Later I was battling to get the children ready for the shopping expedition.
‘Kids, have you all got your containers?’
They grumbled all the way up the road, especially when they saw the long queues outside ‘Weigh and Save’ and ‘Tap and Top Up’.
‘Muum, why can’t we have shower gel?’
‘Nothing wrong with a bar of soap, we haven’t got enough containers for non essentials.’
There was a cry of horror from one of the vats, it looked like a battle scene, someone had dropped their glass jug of tomato sauce, a luxury most of us were doing without. My neighbour joined us in the queue.
‘How are you getting on with the milkman?’
‘We’re 759th on the waiting list.’
‘I hate to say it, but my mother was right, I should have registered with a milkman months ago, at the time he seemed too expensive. Now even the loyal customers are being rationed, so Mum can’t get a spare bottle for us.’
The total ban on plastic had repercussions most of us had not imagined. There was a chronic shortage of glass bottles and jars as they were requisitioned and a shortage of milk as cows had to be milked by hand, or so we were told. I had no idea how milking parlours worked or why they needed plastic.
‘What are you getting Robby for his birthday?’
‘Edible Lego and tin soldiers.’
‘It’s a nightmare at the hospital, I dropped a glass syringe and it shattered. I was not popular. Such a shortage they are talking about reusing them.’
‘Tell me about it. I went to blood donors, the only stuff I can afford to give away and the nurse dropped the bottle, blood and broken glass everywhere and my precious fluids wasted. ‘
‘Are you going to wickerwork this evening?’
‘You bet, I’ve got to get that shopping basket finished before my last carrier bag disintegrates.’
‘Oh, here’s Carrie, did you hear about her poor mother?’
‘Carrie, so sorry to hear about your Mum, was it a shock?’
‘It was rather, but a blessing in a way, I’ll inherit her Tupperware collection.’
Times and Tides of a Beachwriter 