Seeing

Mrs M is still doing her best for Ukraine. Sometimes there are things I can help with. People donate stuff; some of it in designer bags, some of it in rubbish sacks. Some of it is valuable for Ukraine; some of it is saleable for serious cash to pay for transport and other costs. Some of it can be recycled, maybe generating a little cash for some charity or other along the way. Some of it goes in landfill, along with the questions about the people who donated it

Mrs M sorts it, boxes it, labels it, lists it, numbers it, stacks it. I have fun on the Internet translating "children's underwear" into Ukrainian, and printing labels. Today we took eight or ten large bags of 'not good enough' clothes to a place that buys clothes for 50p/kilo: a wooden hut in the corner of a car park in a retail centre that has seen better days. You have probably driven or walked past such places, but you have probably also edited then out of your conscious mind and memory - I know I have

One sweet woman, with little English, but a kindly smile, behind a desk, with space for one customer. She examined every item, quickly and efficiently - you could see her relax when she realised most of it would be stuff she could accept. I expect she has had confrontations; I wonder what protection she has. After 15 minutes, we came away with a £10 note and a few coins, and quite a lot of questions

Where are the clothes going? Is someone's making a lot of money? It it all legal? Is the nice lady earning the minimum wage? Is anyone else being exploited? Are there ethical issues we cannot even see? Is this a better option than the lower quality stuff we stuff took to the recycling run by the fire brigade, for whom it also makes a little cash? Modern life is a minefield

One other customer (supplier?) was in the car park, a mum and shy young daughter. Also warm and smiling. She had only one small bag compared to our minor mountain, so we stood aside. We didn't see her transaction, but I'd be surprised if she even went away with £2. More uneasy questions, mostly starting 'why?'

I listened to a podcast at lunch time about how the super rich now wear clothing that is not ostentatious: no designer labels, outrageous colours or eccentric designs. Ridiculously expensive clothes are now muted and understated. Intended to be recognisable only to those who inhabit the same world. If we sold some today for 50p/kilo, would we even know?

I asked Mrs M where these tulips came from, but she doesn't know. Maybe they were already in the garden, maybe she planted them somewhen in the last 10 years. "They come every year", she said. Maybe I treated them like the hut in the car park. I should open my eyes