The Third Runway at Heathrow or: Just Another Reason Why I Want To Scream

I’ve been doing these things for as long as I can remember: flattening cereal packets, rinsing out bottles, peeling labels off food and drinks cans, piling up old newspapers and magazines, switching plugs off at the wall, never leaving anything on stand-by and composting everything that I possibly can. And I know that I’m not the only one. It’s great to know that I’m just one of an increasing number of people who are environmentally conscious, and are trying to do even the smallest things in the hope that they’ll add up to a big change.

Today’s announcement that the go ahead has been given to the construction of a third runway at Heathrow seems to laugh in the face of all of us. How important can it really be that we don’t leave our tellies on stand-by overnight and recycle our old wine bottles when it’s okay to build another runway at Heathrow and add a potential 200,00 flights a year to Britain’s carbon footprint?

There seems to be something inherently wrong with the way that the world is being run. Economy in melt-down? Attempt to stave off the inevitable recession by inflating the economy with yet more money that doesn’t really exist. Why think about the longer term when there’s a quick fix?

Now I’ve got a great idea: How about a temporary fix for both the economy and unemployment crisis at once? Constructing a third runway at Heathrow will benefit the economy by up to £5.5 billion a year, as well as creating 65,000 jobs.

But where’s the space for the planet in all this?

The Judgement of Paris? Wonderful!

And I thought truly divine things never really happened…

My flatmate, while dressed in 16th Century servant’s garb and handing out leaflets to promote a rather popular Edinburgh visitor attraction at which she works, happened to glance down to the pavement and see the most magnificent pair of legs walk past her.

They belonged to a lithe, dark-skinned man who sashayed past in a courtesan’s costume, surrounded by a gaggle of equally divine looking women draped in silk and frills. Disappearing around the corner of St Giles Cathedral leaving blown kisses scattered in their wake, they vanished. Looking down at her hand, a new flyer was there among her own: “The Judgement of Paris”.

Appearing again tonight under the spotlights of the Roxy Art House, the beautiful creatures had us all enraptured – eyes following the arcs made by circling arms, watching the gliding of T-bar shoes across the floor, and hearts longing that one day we too might be able to dance the Can-Can. Dance has never been so enthralling.

How ironic that a story about love made me fall in love – in love, at last, with the Edinburgh Festival. “The Judgement of Paris” is a prime example of the magic you can find when you turn away from the crowds decked in garish raincoats who brandish their umbrellas like weapons, away from the main thouroughfare, and take a chance on a little show that tickles your fancy.

I was winked at by Aphrodite. I wonder if anybody else would be as lucky.

The rectangular, white painted window panes cut the view of the garden into geometric shapes. Outside, it looks more like March than August – the sky so pale that it’s almost white, the tree branches moving around in the wind and everything still wet from a night of rain.

Propped up in bed, full of the cold, there’s just too much damn time to think. Will I survive three months of living back at home with my mother? Do fish tend to die during car journeys? Why did my friend think that she’d find love with a man she met on the bus? Should I be writing my book instead of writing a blog?  When will the washing machine, whining away on the other side of the wall, finally shut up?

I am 24. I am about to complete my Masters. The other day, a quiz in a magazine told me that I was a perfectionist and was putting too much pressure on myself by telling myself that I “should” do things. Apparently, I can take ownership of my life by changing “should” to “could”.

The answer to the question “What is the meaning of life?” is:

Go figure, then report back.