I'd like to talk about a seaside litter collection drive I joined last autumn on the southern coast near Brighton. It was organised by a grassroots marine charity alongside a local sea angling club, aiming to clear a two-mile stretch of shingle shoreline right after a heavy weekend storm. I went down quite early on a Saturday morning with my flatmate, and to our surprise, over fifty local residents had gathered by the pier, equipped with thick gloves and hessian sacks.
Once the tide receded, we fanned out across the strandline where most of the debris had washed up. The sheer volume of waste was really eye-opening. We weren't just picking up discarded drink cans and takeaway containers left behind by holidaymakers; we actually gathered an enormous quantity of microplastics, degraded bottle caps, and tangled synthetic netting, often called ghost gear. What struck me most was the tiny plastic pellets embedded deep in the pebbles, which are notoriously hazardous for seabirds feeding along the surf.
By midday, we had amassed dozens of full sacks near the promenade, which the council collection lorry later weighed and hauled away, amounting to nearly four hundred kilos. Seeing that long stretch of shingle restored to its natural state was immensely satisfying, though it did leave me with mixed feelings. On one hand, I felt proud of our collective effort, but on the other, it was sobering to realise how relentlessly our oceans are being choked by single-use packaging.