Human over-dependence on single-use plastics has been under the spotlight a lot over the last year or two, but has the media coverage managed to change habits?

In our family we finally got to the point of not having to remember to take our reusable shopping bags, water bottles and coffee cups with us when we go out – it has thankfully become second nature. We also have amassed a sizeable collection of cloth and mesh bags for loose fruit and veg purchases. It doesn’t solve the shrink-wrapped cucumber issue, but it’s a start.

We don’t buy pizzas with polystyrene packaging, only cardboard. We now buy all our condiments in glass bottles, not plastic. Butter comes in paper-wrapped blocks, not plastic pots. We’ve swapped little tins of sweetcorn, for large bags of the frozen stuff. We eschew tea bags for loose-leaf. We bulk-buy recycled toilet rolls, kitchen rolls and tissues from Who Gives A Crap. We also buy all our pasta, rice, loose-leaf tea, pulses, oats, seeds, nuts, washing-up liquid, laundry liquid, hand soap, cleaning product, shampoo bars, cardboard deodorant sticks, bamboo toothbrushes, and toothpaste tablets from a very useful local business called Refill Revolution.

One of the (many) personal stumbling blocks in our pursuit of a less wasteful existence, stems from my husband’s cold meat habit. Our recycling bin, which is otherwise fairly modest, contains an unacceptable number of the plastic trays that have ferried slices of ham, salami, mortadella et al from the supermarket shelves and into our home. The base of the packaging we put in the recycling bin, without being 100% sure it is even recycled. The thinner plastic coverings, however, have to either be burnt or go to landfill. Ugh. The guilt.

In Italy it was all fairly simple: we just nipped to one of the village shops, ordered however many grams of whatever it was we wanted. Our order was wrapped in wax paper, with a slither of very very thin film between slices, et voilà. Naturally, cold meat sold freshly-sliced does not have a long shelf-life, but the shop was a 2-minute walk, so ham could be bought daily, if required. Here the shop is a 15-minute drive, so we would have to jump in the car, for the sole purpose of purchasing cold cuts, far more often if we were to opt for less packaging.

No doubt we’ll get there in the end, but finding the right balance is a constant work in progress.

So the changes our family has implemented so far have not always been easy, they have not always been convenient, they are not always equivalent in price and they are nowhere near enough to turn the tide; but persevering with them has helped to cement in us a constant awareness of our shopping habits which in turn has made it a lot harder to make the “wrong” choices, no matter how tempting.

Which is all very well for families like mine: not filthy rich, but lucky enough to be able to opt for the more environmentally-sound consumer practices. We are also a multi-generational household, with one retiree, two self-employed artisans and a work-from-home part-timer (me). (Not forgetting the entertaining, but functionally useless in matters of shopping, six-year old). So we are not tied to one big shopping expedition, preferably in a one-stop-shop, to be hurriedly squeezed in at the end of a long working week. We have the luxury of time, allowing us to visit places like Refill Revolution, and shop the way it used to be done; with our purchases being weighed out on scales and poured into the containers we have bought with us. A process that would be so much easier were we all in a position enjoy a slower and more contemplative pace of life.

But “Going Green” should not be a lifestyle choice that is reserved solely for those who can afford it and who have the time. Going green should not be presented as a choice at all: but as an urgent and unavoidable necessity. Us smug eco-shoppers need to stop forking up our organic quinoa while looking down on those who buy plastic-packaged fruit and veg (inexplicably cheaper than loose), or plastic-wrapped multi-packs (inexplicably cheaper than the same number of individual items), and instead focus on what pressure we can bring to bear to ensure that environmentally-friendly consumer practices are accessible and affordable for absolutely everybody.

That they are no longer the exception, but the norm.

For as long as the “wrong” choices remain more economical than their eco-alternatives, we cannot possibly expect everybody to change their habits: too many people simply cannot afford to.

This is the point at which the temptation might be to ask ourselves: what’s the bloody point? Nothing we do as individuals is going to change anything. In the end it all comes down to money: manufactures and suppliers all want to get the most profit from the least outlay. That is how it works. And in this ridiculous human-centric world of ours, it is cheaper to produce the stuff that is bad for us and for our planet, than it is to be environmentally ethical.

It is presented as an unsolvable problem: business just cannot afford to be green(er).  The end.

Well bollocks to that. Business cannot afford to ruin the only planet we have, either. If businesses are really unable to do the right thing, then they need to be forced to do it through consumer pressure and government regulation, or they need shut up shop. Vague promises to go greener in the future, or the false-marketing of recycling as the solution to all our problems, cannot be allowed to suffice. So don’t give up. Make the changes you are able to make in your own lives, lead by example, talk to friends, family and co-workers. Write to retailers and manufacturers to tell them about the products you are boycotting, and why. Write to your MP and demand change. Vote for parties that prioritise the health of our natural environment over the wealth of our business class.

We can no longer afford to do otherwise.