Autumnal leaf bunting. Simply gather a sack of the largest, most beautiful fallen leaves you can find, and knot their stems, at intervals, along a length of Fairtrade cotton (though you may prefer to use discarded human hair). Other seasonal fruits and gatherings - berries, acorns, organic broccoli, etc, can be included according to taste. Rowan thought I should mention this for anyone who wants to join us in celebrating Richmond council's decision on gas guzzlers. Is it ethical, I'm sometimes asked, to feel such anger towards SUV drivers? To feel, sometimes, like dragging them from their cars and slashing both vehicle and sociopath with sharp sticks? Having thought long and hard about this, my answer is: yes. Providing, of course, the sticks come from a renewable source.
Anyway, by the time I pushed my bike into the hall on Tuesday evening, the bunting was up, and Rowan had some Fairtrade champagne on ice. When I asked her if the council's decision really merited this notably consumer-based form of commemoration, she reasoned - and I'll paraphrase - that, amid all the bad news about the climate change, it would be a shame not to celebrate the good, particularly when you thought of all the money we stand to save not paying to park the Prius if the scheme catches on.
And she did have a point. Even if the word "killjoy" is one she would not, I think, care to have thrown at her after a long bicycle ride home in the rain, Rowan mentioned that autumnal leaf bunting doesn't just make itself. Her hands were raw with the threading. Not that this should put you off.
I raised my glass - "To the future!" Rowan raised hers. "No, to Toyota", and we toasted our good fortune. Only to be brought back to earth by Rowan's mobile. Who could it be at this hour? Our friends know we expect them to offset every call. Rowan covered the receiver. It was Bonnie, she mouthed - a woman we know best as the driver of the biggest, most offensive-looking SUV within five miles. She was having a little celebration - did we want to come over? I was about to dismiss the idea out of hand, when Rowan indicated our almost empty bottle. We woke the au pair and left. Perhaps it would do no harm to be polite.
What, we wondered, could Bonnie and her equally horrible friends have to celebrate? For the road outside her home was choked with Cayennes, BMWs, Outlaws, Freelanders, Warriors, Touaregs, Range Rovers, Jeeps. Inside, we commiserated with our hostess. When would she be exchanging her tractor for something smaller? She laughed - you could feel the particulates hit your face. "No, no, that's why we're celebrating! Three hundred quid! That's what I spend getting my highlights done!"
Another blonde flourished a vast bag. "It's half what I spent on this!" she crowed, "And I've got one in every colour." Bonnie said it definitely made you think about a Humvee.
Back home, we took down the bunting and sat up late, whittling sticks. It's not that the SUV drivers can't afford to replace their tyres, Rowan thinks, but, on a daily basis, maybe the inconvenience will get to them. All we have to do, as responsible citizens, is creep out at night. What else is left? They don't care about the money. Or the planet. "Or people like us not liking them," Rowan said. "That's what I can't understand". I know what she means. And if you're reading this, you will, too."
