I peel a pear, for chances are that it has been sprayed with something or other, quarter it, remove the core, and take the plate with juicy morsels to the sunlit terrace. Having gulped down the delicious fruit, I toss the remains into my garden. Feeling virtuous, I return to the kitchen to wash to plate with a little smile on my face. And then I start laughing at myself. With seven-billion people on the planet, my clever ways with the garbage will not add up to much. There will be a tad less of it, all right, but the three fig trees in my garden will hardly benefit from the peel and core of an occasional pear that I toss from the terrace. All things considered, my belly is the one and only beneficiary of the whole exercise. Indeed, I am but another victim of relentless greenwashing. All that so many do-gooders around the world get by being pernickety with their garbage is that fleeting feeling that started my laughing a short while ago. Virtuous, my ass.