ORGANIC FOOD WRAPPING?
Saturday, March 29
ON THE flight to Canberra, I'm thrashing around in my seat so vigorously that the flight attendant must suspect an epileptic fit. In truth, she's just given me the Muesli Choc Snack and I'm trying to find a way into the plastic wrapping.

Why is modern packaging so hard to break into? There are bank safes easier to get into than your average chip packet. You huff and puff pulling outwards on the sides, only to be repelled. You then try tearing in from above a frantic battle during which the packet itself, remarkably enough, appears to fight back. It's as if a vicious hamster has leapt from the overhead locker and is now going for your throat. In the end you've no option but to attack the thing with your teeth, trying to subdue it Mike Tyson-style.

Dentists blame our consumption of chips and lollies for the bad state of our teeth; more likely it's the damage done just trying to get into the packet.

Back home it's worse. Neanderthal man had to battle for his daily food and so do we. Here it's the daily fight to get orange juice out of the carton and into a glass. There's a silver foil thing you have to pull off with one hand, while squeezing on the carton with your other hand, just to hold it steady. These two actions, sensible in themselves, are disastrous in combination. Especially since you tend to squeeze harder just as you wriggle the foil free. The result is a sudden geyser of juice that erupts from the carton, covering every nearby surface.

In some cases, a small amount of juice will be left in the container. Once you've towelled off your hair, mopped the floor and laundered all your clothing, you may like to pour it into your glass.

Then there are the ring-pulls that snap off in your hand; the "easy peel" covers that are impossible to shift; and the milk cartons sealed with a glue so powerful the spout must be shredded in the effort to get the thing open.

Even copies of this newspaper, when home delivered, now come wrapped in a way designed to repel all comers. Like a newcomer to Braille, the householder fondles his Herald, eyes closed and tongue poked out in concentration, feathering his fingertips over the plastic, trying to identify the microscopically tiny ridge that marks the entry point. There are ASIO documents with easier access. In the end, you scratch and rip at the plastic like a deranged rodent.

All this would be fine were it not for the exponential rise in the amount of packaging. As the government focuses on the plastic bags at the checkout, whole oil wells of plastic are being used to wrap and then triple wrap every product on the shelves.

The plastic milk bottle is the latest to add a second seal, right under the old one. But why stop at two? Other products already have successive layers of security, much like a medieval fortress. Fear of litigation means everything must now be packed in a way that repels all threats product contamination, terrorist attack, accidental injury. Oh, what irony is this: the world consuming itself into an early grave, and all in the name of protecting our health and safety.

Meanwhile, in the fruit and vegetable section, every week they decide more items need to come prewrapped. The latest is the humble iceberg lettuce, which now comes in its own plastic bag. Who knows why?

Already the parsley is prewrapped, as are the celery, the grapes and the plums. Hilariously, the organic section is the most enthusiastic in its wrapping policy, with every single item swathed in plastic. People, presumably, don't trust it's organic unless it's wrapped in its own weight of petrochemicals.

Give the supermarkets half a chance and they'll be serving each zucchini in its own presentation box, nestled atop a bed of crushed velvet. Or perhaps presented like cigars, in little metal tubes, with a built-in humidifier.

According to people in the industry, these supermarket wrap artists are inspired by germ awareness - the fear that someone will put a germy hand on a lettuce and litigation will result. Yeah, sure. I suspect it's so we don't leave behind the unwanted outer leaves of lettuce, thus making a mess of their lovely supermarket.

Yes, we should all use the local butcher and greengrocer instead but that doesn't mean the supermarkets can't show at least a little restraint.

My latest purchase, by the way, is a pair of scissors, which came encased in a tamper-proof plastic container. On the back were instructions explaining that the thing should be opened using, yes, a pair of scissors. This must be some sort of ultimate in packaging: to open the product you need the very thing that your purchase of the product indicates you do not possess.

Is there no progress to report? Perhaps a little. With the new screw caps, at least the shiraz is quicker to get into.

By Richard Glover

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