Wave magazine

Katie finds it’s not as easy as she thought to travel with an eco consciousness

In an era when everyone is boasting about how green they’ve become, us true eco warriors have to go that bit further if we’re to stand out as organic wheat amongst the mass-produced chaff.

So this week I’m proving my commitment to the eco cause by walking the walk as well as talking the talk: I’m going green by giving up transport. I will live by the motto ‘What would Swampy do – and then some’.

Taking my eco-metamorphosis step by step I started the week by giving up private transport. It should have been easy. It wasn’t.

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We all need to think long and hard about our buying habits, says birthday girl Katie

My mum asks me about what I want for my birthday, so I tell her about this well cool, tacky, blinging necklace I saw the other day in Camden Market.

“It’s, like, an actual cassette tape, like they used in the 80s, but it’s been spray-painted gold, half dipped in gold glitter and it’s on the end of this well phat chain,” I explain, very excited about the noise I’m gonna make around Soho with my uber-glamcheese return to nu-rave.

“I don’t think so,” says my mum. “There’s no way I’m going to pay for something like that.”

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Katie foregoes the washing up in the name of saving water

I have not done any washing-up for a week. And it feels good.

My flatmate wanders into the kitchen as I am frying eggs in a soup-pan. He surveys the kitchen surfaces, stacked high with crusty plates and smeared cups and starts to screech:

“Where the f*ck is our kitchen? When was the last time you washed up? Jesus Christ this place is a hell hole.”

I casually soak up his expletives as I slide my eggs into a cup, and, when he is quite finished, I cheerfully explain:
“This week I am conserving water for Wave.” Simon screams something that cannot be repeated in a magazine and storms out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him.

“I learned the art of navy showers – sadly no sailors required – and found myself lathering up my dry body before trying to locate the taps through a haze of stinging, bubbly eyes”

Poor Simon, I think to myself as I tuck into my eggs with a chopstick. If only he realised his ignorance was the reason summer was so cold.

So in this month’s episode of my personal eco-war, I battled against water consumption. But I am disappointed to report that water-lite living – like many things that involve doing nothing – turned out to be so easy it was practically boring.

There is no sexy way to tell you about how I flushed the toilet less, rammed more clothes into a quick wash cycle or turned the tap off while I brushed my teeth.

Nor does there seem much point in detailing how I didn’t clean the car I don’t own, water the garden I don’t have or wash the pets that don’t exist.

In fact, as a closet-slob I was thrilled at the idea of abandoning the washing-up, quickly followed by floor mopping, bathroom scrubbing and kitchen cleaning.

Doing nothing came so easily to me that mid-week I decided to up the ante and started searching the internet for novel ways to live with less water.

I learned the art of navy showers – sadly no sailors required – and found myself lathering up my dry body before trying to locate the taps through a haze of stinging, bubbly eyes, while I frantically stamped clean my underwear in the water under my feet.

I learned how to cook entire meals in one pan of water and then use it to wash up with afterwards. I poured the soapy water onto my window box, and wondered if any Hare Krishna devotee had ever felt so angelic.

I discovered that many water companies give away free devices and gadgets to put into your toilet cistern, meaning it will use less water per flush. Life has never been so creative. Or pungent.

But as I searched the internet for ever-more exciting ways to economise on H2O, one thing was niggling me. Because – for all the Google searches I did – I cannot find one decent explanation for why the hell I am doing this.

Instead, I stumbled across a mountain of conspiracy theories that claim my water-free week has been nothing but a waste of time.

“Although we are regularly told that we need to save water because of the energy required to treat it and pump it, in reality water companies propagate this myth to save themselves cost” argues one blogger.

It’s a depressing end to my eco-friendliest week yet. I have achieved nothing. Not one polar bear has been saved.

And then I hear a Simon shaped moan from the kitchen and – resolving not to do the washing-up for another day – decide that perhaps my time may have been well spent after all.

Katie fights for her right to travel the world affordably

This was the column for Wave in which I was going to give up cheap flights. Because cheap flights are the eco-devil incarnate, non?

Everyone knows cheap flights are evil because of the way they effect the environment – and Guardian columnists. They are collectively responsible for an endless spurt of climate-killing carbon dioxide and poisonous polemic.

And so, this is the column in which – in my bid to become a green goddess – I was going to give them up. Yes, I was. Until two things happened.

The first was that I met the deliciously beautiful Sam Branson. And Sam my-fatherbecame-a-multi-millionaire-via-Virgin-Airlines, is trying to become an eco-warrior too.

“What I am really interested in at the moment is global warming,” said blond, 22-yearold Sam. “Since I travelled to the Antarctic and wrote a book about my expedition, I have become really interested in environmental issues.”

Have you, Sam? I thought, twirling my hair around my finger, and then, in a moment of clarity asked, “So have you stopped flying then?”

“Oh no,” he grinned. “I haven’t stopped flying. I haven’t cut down my travelling at all. And I am terrible at recycling – I hate putting the bins out. All I am really doing is raising awareness among my peers.” Oh.

Then the second thing that happened is that my friend found us a cheap, last-minute holiday
to Egypt and, since Sam seemed to think it was ok, it seemed churlish not to take it.

So this week I didn’t give up cheap flights. Instead this is a column about why we shouldn’t have to. I’ve never been convinced by the argument against cheap flights. Rather, I have always suspected that cheap flights cross the murky line where eco-issues become a matter of economy over environment, class over carbon.

That cheap flights cop the flak – where long-hauls, military flights, first-class, business and private travel do not – is symptomatic of a war being waged, not on the eco-impact of this kind of travel, but rather what it stands for: affording the opportunity for new (poorer) people to explore the world.

The attack on cheap flights is a disguised attack on the kind of travel that the middle class do not approve of – the lads’ holidays, hen nights, weeks in the Costa del Sol or weekends in Amsterdam – that they snobbishly deem a waste of time.

“I met the deliciously beautiful Sam Branson. And Sam my-father-became- a-multi-millionaire-via-Virgin-Airlines, is trying to become an eco-warrior too”

When Sam Branson jets out to Necker Island every other weekend no-one bats an eyelid, but a week booked in Ibiza on a 99p easyJet flight is frowned on like the travel equivalent of binge drinking.

As capitalism becomes more pronounced, one of the few boons that it might offer is to level the playing field of experience. But just as we can all afford to dress in (faux) designer rags, see the world and taste its foods, suddenly those things are shoved back out of our reach by the green-eyed monster.

How bad are cheap flights? Not as bad as you might think. It’s certainly worth noting that in 2003 flying was thought to be responsible for only 3.5% of the UK’s gas emissions causing climate change, compared to motoring (around 18%) and the energy industries (35%).

Meanwhile, easyJet points out that compared to expensive flights, their planes, being newer, emit less carbon and also cram in more passengers per flight.

Cheap flights do have an environmental impact, but I’m not convinced by the way they’ve been so ruthlessly singled out for admonishment. So before I’m about to give them up I want to know – who will really pay the price?

Katie Glass tries her hand at the dark arts – and all for the sake of saving energy

“Less is more” is always my mantra when it comes to ecomatters. As in, the less I have to do, the more I like it.

Eco may be chic-o but it is also a pain in the ass; so after my last two green efforts embroiled me in washing-up the rubbish (recycling) and struggling through town heaped in junk (not using a carrier bag), this time I was looking for an easier eco task.

Could I be environmentally active in a way that involved doing nothing at all? I wondered. And then a light bulb went off. No, not in my head, in my hall. And (ironically) I saw the light.

Even someone as un-environmentally-aware as I has noticed that eco warriors are switched on to the idea of switching the lights off. Maybe you remember that whole Lights Out London event, when even Buckingham Palace agreed to flick the switch off for one night?

OK, so I wasn’t sure exactly what the fuss was about, but I was sure I could manage a week in the dark. And incredibly I was right. After taking the precaution of removing all the light bulbs in the house – so I wouldn’t be tempted to cheat – I quickly learnt that living without light was easy. Actually, I rather enjoyed it. I flung open the curtains to make the most of the daylight and found myself waking up in a room flooded with sunlight. I sat at my desk captivated by the afternoon sky as it gently faded to grey. In the evenings I lit candles, sending wafts of votive fragrances drifting from room to room. It was all rather romantic, idyllic even.

True, stumbling up the stairs of a blackened hallway in fourinch stilettos at 3am was not without its hazards. But ultimately I found my ankles, and my resolve, to be remarkably resilient.

‘In the evenings I lit candles, sending wafts of votive fragrances drifting from room to room. It was all rather romantic, idyllic even’

By the end of the week I had become a master of the dark arts. Thrilled with my efforts I called my hippy ex-boy to boast. But as I basked in the natural glow of my own glory he interrupted, “Is there something wrong with your phone? I keep hearing a humming behind you?”

“Oh, that’s just the fridge,” I explained. “I’ve got it open so I can read my book for a bit.”

The line was quiet.

“Or maybe it’s the telly,” I offered. “I’ve been keeping it on so I can find my way across the sitting room. Or it could be the stereo. I’ve got it on loud because I got a bit nervous sitting in the dark alone. Or maybe it’s my laptop?”

There was a pregnant pause.

“Um, do you know why you’ve been living without light for a week?” he tentatively asked. I had to admit that no I didn’t, but I did know that Buck Palace had done it.

“Is it because the dolphins don’t like it too bright?” I hazarded a guess.

He took a deep breath and gently explained the concept of “Energy Saving” as my cheeks burnt red in the cool breeze of the fridge (still open).

I hung up the phone, embarrassed, gently closed the fridge door, turned off the telly and crawled into bed. But not even the soft black space under the duvet could hide what I realised I had known all along. That with eco issues – like with everything else – less can only ever mean less.