Protesting 

By Jane Scoggins

Joe took his TV dinner from the oven and carried it on a tray to the sitting room. He put the tea cloth with which he had carried his hot dinner on the little coffee table before setting down his dinner plate. The little Ercol table was one of three in a nest that fitted neatly together one on top of another. Joe was always very careful when using any of the three, as the tables, had been treasured pieces of furniture since he and his wife Margie had received them as a wedding present many years ago from an aunt, long since dead. He was proud to say that they were still in excellent condition, with no marks on them. 

They had been regularly polished through the years, although in recent years Margie had not been so keen, and left this task more or less to Joe.

She had said, ‘Now I know about the cutting down of the Amazon Forest and the damage it does I am less inclined to polish this wood. It was probably cut down illegally, is not a sustainable variety, and will have taken away vital trees and land from the local people, reducing vital resources and increasing poverty’

Joe had not given any thought to this before, or the history of the much-loved tables. A bit taken aback and not wanting to annoy his wife, he shrugged and made some sort of placatory comment. Margie had since become more involved in reading about other environmental issues. She joined Greenpeace and became involved in their anti-whaling campaign ‘Save the Whales’ Joe was a purser on a ship at the time and knowing how much rubbish got heaved overboard almost daily when out at sea, not to mention the occasional fuel spillage, however small and not reported on, he kept quiet and did not mention these things to Margie when he was home on leave. He enjoyed his job and didn’t want to spark Margie into another campaign that might impact him and his employment. Joe turned on the TV and then carefully slid the little table across the carpet to just in front of his armchair. Reaching for his slippers under the chair he slipped them on and settled back into the comfy depths of the chair. He had returned that day from his life on the ocean waves and was looking forward to a few days rest. He wasn’t sure where Margie was, or when she would be back. He had gotten used to coming home and finding she was about to set off to join a campaign or had already gone on one. The last year he felt he had hardly seen her, but there again he had been away at sea a lot. He had accepted extra long shifts in an attempt to build up his savings and pension so he could retire early in the not-too-distant future. He thought he could then take on a local job and he and Margie could get back to spending time together like they used to. This drifting away from each other was not a good thing and their marriage was suffering. When was the last time they had been on a holiday or spent proper time together talking and listening to each other, he asked himself? He was doing things alone on his shore leave while Margie was busy or involved with Greenpeace. She had even spoken about putting herself forward for a voyage on their ship Rainbow Warrior. He had been silent on that one. He thought that was going a bit far. He had heard that these trips took months, across to the other side of the world. Joe started on his dinner, a lasagne tonight. He was hungry and looking forward to it, and an evening watching the box. He would message Margie this evening and see when she was coming home. He really must start paying her more attention.

During the evening Joe messaged Margie. When by 9pm he had not had a reply he tried phoning her. Her phone was turned off. Joe dozed and woke just as the music for the BBC Ten O’Clock news came on. He was feeling a bit groggy but alerted himself and sat up when he saw a picture of a large sailing vessel with a huge green and white banner across the side GREENPEACE. 

The newscaster said ‘Today the Greenpeace ship Rainbow Warrior set off on its voyage of education and protests against commercial whaling, nuclear testing and oil exploitation. It will sail around the world via Antarctica stopping at as many countries as it can. The voyage is expected to take at least 6 months.’

 Joe stared at the screen. When the camera zoomed in to see the figures of the people on board waving Greenpeace and Save the Whales banners Joe could clearly see Margie’s face, no doubt about it. And close beside her to his further shock and dismay, a tall handsome man with his arm around her waist. They were laughing and cheering. Joe had not seen Margie as happy as that for a long time. He realised then that perhaps she was not coming back to him, and he had lost her, not just to Greenpeace, protests and campaigns but to another man, with whom she had more in common. He had to ask himself whether protesting about it would do any good…

 

Copyright Jane Scoggins