I was sitting here this morning when there was a crash from the front of the house.
I went to investigate and found that the post had arrived. The porch floor was covered with envelopes and things.
It’s nice to be loved. People have taken the trouble to write to me.
I gathered the armful of stuff and brought it in. I sorted it on the kitchen table – one pile of stuff to read, and one pile for recycling/burning/landfill/throwing over the neighbour’s wall.
I stood back and looked at the two piles.
The important pile had two sheets of paper – an electricity bill and a phone bill. They aren’t even that important, because I don’t bother paying them.
The other pile consisted of the envelopes, flyers, glossy brochures full of naked semi-clad women, glossy brochures full of garden furniture, glossy brochures telling me about a lot of crap that I didn’t want to know about. There were offers of broadband. There was an invite to join a gym eight miles away [hah!]. There was a letter from my bank telling me what a wonderful customer I am. I already know that.
The ESB even sent me two [identical] glossy brochures on how to save money. They could save me money by not printing those brochures and deducting the cost from my bill [that I don't pay].
It’s funny really. Everyone is on the Eco-bandwaggon. It’s politically correct to talk green. Let’s plant trees. Let’s watch our carbon footprint. Let’s be environmentally friendly.
But that’s all it is – talk.
Not one of them will do a fucking thing about it.