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I was listening to Witness History on the BBC World Service this morning, just before the 5am news, and it featured the guy behind the 1980s Slip, Slop, Slap skin cancer campaign in Australia. It was very effective in reducing the incidence of skin cancer, particularly in kids. We both remember it very well. This led me to wonder why someone, anyone hasn’t done something as creative for climate change.
I guess it’s that old short term thing: I don’t want my kids dying from skin cancer in a few years but don’t care about their existence much beyond that. Let them fry after I’m gone.
This made me wonder if the denial of climate change is more fear that anything else. “If I don’t believe in it, it will go away,” kind of thing.
The current heatwave roaring across Europe at the moment and the millions suffering from the effects, highlighted this for me. Particularly in Britain where many people are bemoaning the fact that they don’t have air conditioning. Talk about ironic. But, of course, they may just want to accelerate the race for the end.
It was pretty hot here, in Trosa as well today. This was made worse given I spent a lot of the day, after shopping, in the kitchen. Poor Freya was also suffering with the temperature. To alleviate her suffering a bit, Mirinda put the heat pump in reverse, we shut everything up, and the house cooled down to manageable levels.
Of course, the temperature was nothing like the height of summer in Oz. When we grew up, the heat was regularly unbearable and the sun a blazing melanoma machine.
But, enough of that. As I said, I spent a lot of the day in the kitchen, preparing for the Friday French Feast tomorrow. Here’s a sneaky peak under a tea towel.
To be fair, while I did spend a lot of the day in the kitchen, it wasn’t all cooking. Of course there was also the planning, something I desperately need when organising a dinner party. So I scrawled on bits of paper scattered on the dining table, trying to make life easier for myself.
But, as I said, I also went shopping. First up, there was the ICA but then, Mirinda drove me into Trosa in order to buy some French wine and cheese.
The town was very busy with maximum cars in the Coop car park but, eventually, Mirinda found a spot. I hopped out and wandered the requisite shops. I was quite dismayed to discover so much French wine in plastic bottles. I realise why they do it, but I have more than enough microplastics in my system already and don’t think it’s fair to have more foisted into me.
Anyway, I found some proper glass bottles and then headed for Lotte’s Deli where I spent a lovely time tasting and discussing the correct cheeses for tomorrow night. It was a lot of fun speaking in a combination of English, Swedish, French and fromage.
At the end of the day, I felt like I’d achieved an awful lot and went to bed, firm in the knowledge that I would be ready for the new day.
Oops, almost forgot. The destruction of the footpath had come on apace since I last walked to the ICA. I don’t know what will happen when they lay the asphalt because I’m thinking we won’t be able to walk on it for a bit.
And it’s not like we can walk on the other side of the road.
Oh, well, it’s all part of life, I guess and will be resolved in time.
