Twice a week, I stagger out of the front door in my slippers and pyjamas to collect our fresh, organic (obviously) milk and put out the empty glass bottles for the milkman to re-use.These days, I wouldn’t dream of buying milk in plastic. Nor my veg, come to that. It’s delivered by electric vehicle or I cycle to our local farmer’s market with my hemp tote bags. The small amount of plastic that does enter our house is religiously recycled, despite the best efforts of my two girls, Lyra, six, and Sasha, three. (I’m for ever fishing their yoghurt cartons out of the bin, washing them up, separating them from their foil lids and divvying them up into the right bins.)
Load More
Load More