‘Eat your dinner; there are children starving in Africa”. When I was growing up, in the 1960s, that mantra was trotted out each and every mealtime by my mum.
It was a stark reminder of how life had been in Britain not so long before. To leave food uneaten was simple heresy for the generation that had spent the war years scrabbling to find their next meal.
That homespun sentiment must baffle modern children, for while parts of Africa are suffering chronically from lack of food, the developed world is wallowing in the stuff. If we ate everything put on our plates nowadays we’d all be as big as houses. In fact we already are.
But if you’ve ever wondered what happens to all the food that sits about unwanted and unloved on supermarket shelves, a news report last week provides the answer. Tesco, the UK’s largest food retailer, has revealed that in the first six months of 2013 it disposed of 28,500 tonnes of discarded foodstuffs in landfill.
Add in production waste and what consumers throw out, and in all, 21 per cent of fresh fruit and vegetables, and 41 per cent of bakery products are dumped. Two-fifths of all bananas, a quarter of all apples, and a staggering 68 per cent of pre-bagged salad ingredients went from farm to rubbish tip after a few brief, inglorious hours in the greengrocer department.
In fairness, Tesco is not the only culprit, and to its credit the company seems as appalled by these statistics as the rest of us. It has responded by announcing a series of measures designed to both reduce waste and educate shoppers. Proposals include the introduction of packages with smaller quantities of produce, and the abolition of special offers designed to encourage impulse buying.
A Tesco official, Matt Simister, in reacting to the findings, claimed that there is “no quick-fix single solution” to tackling food waste, but stressed that both customers and retailers must change their habits.
He has a point: for the survey also reveals that every household in Britain spends £700 (Dh4,157) a year on uneaten produce. So who is to blame: the retailers for cramming their shelves, or the consumers for being too gullible and greedy?
Well, I have to come clean and admit the real culprit is me. Or rather, me and the millions of similarly hapless men who go food-shopping each week.
We may be able to fix a car, change a fuse or build a wall, but when it comes to the weekly shop, the male of the species is a liability.
Supermarket shopping is a skill in which women have learnt to excel through many years of trial and error. Watch them roaming the aisles any day of the week, expertly promenading past the “special offers” and “three for two” signs, as deftly as wildebeest skirting a pool full of crocodiles. They know that when it comes to feeding their family, less is usually more.
But your average male shopper only has to see the words “Buy one, get one free”, and all sense of judgement goes flying out the window.
Here’s an example: every Friday evening my wife used to send me off to our local outlet with dire warnings as to what would result if I strayed from her list.
Yet the outcome was as depressing as it was predictable. Despite my solemn promises, I’d inevitably return home, shamefaced and trembling, with the suspension of our car groaning under the weight of bags of three-for-two lettuce, economy-size tins of guava segments in syrup, family packs of chicken legs in barbecue sauce, and enough tuna sandwich filling to feed an army. I suspect I was personally responsible for a fair amount of those 28,500 tonnes mentioned in the Tesco report. If so, I am truly sorry.
There is always a silver lining: my wife became so exasperated at my stupidity that she took over the shopping duties herself, allowing me to remain at home watching television.
But if Tesco and the other retailers genuinely mend their ways, I could soon find myself once again wandering aimlessly along the aisles in search of imagined culinary bargains. Please step in if you spot me overloading my trolley.
It was Dr Samuel Johnson who wrote that a cucumber “should be well sliced, dressed in pepper and vinegar, and then thrown out as good for nothing.” If he were alive today, Tesco might offer him the post of managing director.
Michael Simkins is an actor and writer based in London
