Here's what I've learned during my imperfect struggle against single-use plastic

I assume you already recycle. I also assume you already bring a reusable bag when you go shopping and own a Chillys water bottle or – god forbid – a steel Stanley cup (steel being responsible for about 8 per cent of global carbon dioxide emissions).

But even with everyone ‘doing their bit’, can recycling and single-use alternatives to plastic really make a difference? With only 9 per cent of plastic recycled globally and two million plastic bags used every minute – how can we keep up? Can individual efforts ever turn the tide, and at what personal cost?

For me, living a plastic-free life feels essential, but also impossible. I’ve successfully given up things before, like chocolate at Lent and meat. These moments of abstinence were in my power – I just had to say ‘no’.

However, with plastic, ‘no’ is not always possible. Plastic finds its way into your home, clothes and even your lungs. It is packaged up in convenience, cost and practicality, handed over to us in a system with no alternative and thus removes our free choice.

READ MORE: Severed heads to stunted sperm: Cost of 460 million tons of plastic every year is high

Plastic pollution is everywhere, but individual people can make a difference (Picture: Juni Kriswanto) | AFP via Getty Images

Plastic redemption is hard to find

I feel well-researched (I’ve written a play on the matter) and well-read (I recommend Lucy Siegle’s Turning The Tide On Plastic). But I still find myself eating a plastic punnet of M&S mango on a train home. The sweet fruit soon turns sour as I look for a recycling bin.

This is compounded by the very real cost-of-living crisis. Many must reach for the cheapest option. But even when you walk into your nearest Whole Foods or Waitrose, plastic is everywhere, which suggests wealth can’t buy redemption.

Those closest to atonement are those with one of life's biggest luxuries... the afternoon off! Give me a couple of hours and I’ll do the meal prep. But everyone’s at work and trying to keep up.

Then there are my favourite moments, the “f*** it” moments: the Friday night takeaway, the pay-day moisturiser. All plastic. All things I don’t think we should have to live without.

Living plastic free is no easy feat. It’s hard work that requires time and the patience for a logistical puzzle. But there are ways to chip away at it – quietly, imperfectly.

Pick your battles

There are options for you to choose better, rather than perfect. You can buy shampoo in a glass bottle that looks like an Aesop dupe. You can commit – really commit – by bringing your reusable water bottle and your tote bag everywhere.

Essentially you can pick your battles. Swap clingfilm for silicone lids or replace it with beeswax wraps. Choose bar soap again – it’s less Victorian than you think it is. Your beauty products probably now come in refill cartridges (Dior, REN, Charlotte Tilbury) and your local refill shop will decant your oats and olive oil into something that doesn’t rattle.

You can even outsource the virtue. Shops like Daylesford, The Source, and Planet Organic have done the plastic-free curating for you. The Co-op has trialled compostable corn-starch bags – which may not be perfect, but they are better. And restaurants like Spring and Native are quietly ditching plastic takeaway pots in favour of reusable or biodegradable packaging.

It doesn’t need to be all hemp and worthy granola. Vanity still matters. Larq bottles purify themselves. UpCircle makes exfoliators out of coffee grounds, in recycled packaging. The Food Market sells pastel silicone storage bags that wouldn’t look out of place in a stylised cookbook shoot.

And you don’t have to live like a monk. You just have to live like someone with a Waitrose card and a reusable cup. It reduces landfill, conserves natural resources, saves energy, and minimises pollution. It is also a paradox.

Chasing bin lorries

While I recycle the odd plastic bottle, Coca-Cola made 100 billion more last year. Joke’s on me! There’s a small chance my plastic will be recycled – and another small chance it will be illegally dumped. Do I really feel like I’m saving the world? The honest answer is no.

But I still love bin day (Wednesday). I will stand outside in my slippers at midnight rummaging for something I think is in the wrong bag. And I chase down the bin lorry if they leave my recycling behind.

I believe being plastic-free is about trying, failing and keeping going. I choose where I can make an impact. Last year I only bought second-hand clothes. I’ve always loved charity shops and vintage clothing so this was a good one for me.

I do have takeaways, but I don’t waste food. I shop at my local market to avoid plastic wrapping – but not a moon cup. And I will absolutely continue buying strawberries in July, even if they come in a punnet that makes me feel morally compromised.

Running out of chances

War rages around the world, habitats and homes are lost as global temperatures rise, and Love Island has started. Do people care about plastic? It’s hard, but we have to.

Single-use alternatives and recycling should not be political, but practical, habitual and lasting. Yes, we need governments and corporations to be held accountable, and policy to enforce change – but your bin men are still coming on Wednesday.

If you haven’t put that milk carton in, that’s one chance you’ve missed to make a difference. And there might not be many chances left.

Verity Mullan is performing her one-woman comedy show, called Single Use, at the Edinburgh Festival Fringe at 12.50pm in Pleasance Courtyard (Bunker Three) until August 25.