There are less plastic bags than there used to be, but still there is a lot.
There are some plastic bags which are too good to use as bin liners. They are too sturdy, perhaps, or badged with a place you want to remember. Shakespeare’s Globe might be an example of that, tho that is something I just pulled out of the air to make myself seem more worldly than I feel sitting in this suburban room of this suburban house of this suburban life. I don’t have any plastic bags that I’m keeping because they’re badged ‘Shakespeare’s Globe’.
Some – the very sturdy ones – I fold. Look closely and you can see them here. To maintain such a stack requires a household commitment and it would be, I think, unusual to find two people who both believe that it is something worth spending their time on.
One day I will knit one of those of coathanger covers like the one a library volunteer once knitted me. ‘It gives you something to do,’ she said, ‘while you wait for the carrots to boil’. At the time, I had no idea what she meant.
But there are many bags which fit between those to be used as bin liners and those to be preserved. And they sit, scrunched in one large plastic bag in the cupboard where the vacuum cleaner lives. Never quite used and never quite not.
Something I want, something I really, really want is one of those calico things. You know a sausage kind of thing with elastic at both ends. You push the bags in the top and pull them out of the bottom. But if I were to hang one of those, I wonder how many times would I need to mutter ‘Shakespeare’s Globe’.