Tesco Delivery Men bringing plastic I have to have and they won’t take back

A white woman in her fifties stands at a doorway smiling holding a plastic bag as a black tesco delivery man peers in towards the camera also smiling.

I hate all this extra plastic (you can’t receive Tesco delivery shopping any other way now), there is no scientific evidence (and even if there was I’m sceptical as science changes so fast, and each scientist changes their minds, just look into Pasteur and Bechamp), you can’t get a virus from a surface or plastic unless someone has sneezed into the plastic and then you touch the snot and put it in your mouth or another orifice.  Reminds me of when I was dating Steven Dayer, me and a friend, and him and his mate Simon, met in the Wimpy. Simon sneezed and snot landed on the top of my milkshake. I was so excited to be with Steve (I was 15 and he was 18, he is my 14th boyfriend in my book ‘From Essex to London in 101 Boyfriends’, by the way I am rewriting in the present tense, sounds better I reckon…)  I just carried on drinking the milkshake until I was slurping with the straw making that horrible noise that my husband complains about when I’m slurping the ice at the end of a gin and tonic.

Plastic, plastic and more plastic bags, it’s horrible, and as for the masks, I keep seeing them littered everywhere I go, I don’t go many places, there is even a black fabric one outside my house, it’s sinister. I hate it. I am fortunately exempt from wearing a mask, I can have this little hate masking wearing little chat to myself and it doesn’t matter, but I don’t dare bring it up at the dinner table as I am berated by my family for my anti-mask views. My daughter wears her mask with pride, and she is a pretty dab hand at the tarot cards too, something she has been working on since homeschooling. That and dying her hair blue. Oh, and we got her passport back. It was found by immigration at Gatwick, her Dad took her there on the train to get it. There was a bit of a kafuffle because she didn’t have any ID on her, she has grown so much in the last two years she doesn’t look the same.  Anyway, they let her have it on the basis of ‘who would come all the way on the train to Gatwick on one of the hottest days of the year?’.

All this plastic and rubbish reminds me of a poem I wrote when my daughter was a baby. I feel similarly now re getting away, this Monday I’m going to stay in a cabin, rather than a bin, since menopause my girth is a tad wider so I may not fit in a standard bin anymore, having said that, I’m older and shrinking so it might balance itself out.

Did anyone notice the spelling error on my last blog? I spelled eyesore, isaw.  I wished I’d had the dyslexia tests, but, who cares, I reckon anyone reading would have known what I was going on about…

 

My Great Big Green Bin

 

I really enjoyed cleaning out my great big green bin

I used a broom to get out the grime

It’s so big, I’m so small, I nearly fell in

 

Some of my neighbours pay a small company to do it for them

I don’t know how much it costs, it might be £10 a month but that’s not the point

A truck arrives after the refuse collection

But cleaning my bin gives me so much satisfaction

 

Flash, flash, it’s clean in a flash

Flash, flash, it’s clean using Flash

I get inside and stay for a while

My house is full, so is the shed

In the bin it’s quiet as a mouse

Not like the house

 

I went to B & Q to buy a roof light

So I can read in my bin

I’ve never read much

I didn’t go school much

Or go to college

I’ve always been out of touch

 

I’m staying in the bin for as long as I can

I did, but fell asleep and into a dream

A magic carpet that took me back to B & Q

There was a man, looked like my father

I was trying to read the instructions of a power drill

And he shouted “No, no

NO, NOOOOOoooo”

 

I awoke, with a filled nappy bag landing on my head

The morning poo from my baby

I’d been in there all night

My partner thought I’d met Jude Law in the local pub

And decided to stay out

But that, unfortunately, could never happen, again

 

A big sheet of plastic on a kitchen bench

 

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