I went to the Isle of Skye last year. While there, I discovered a beautiful spot, Talisker Bay. It was a perfect place to stop for a tea break and take some pictures.

My favourite picture I took that day was of a beaten-up fisherman’s plastic box which had been washed up on the shore. It had travelled all the way from the west coast of Ireland to the west coast of Scotland, ducking and diving through the salty waters of the north atlantic ocean. Imagine that.

As I took the photo, I wondered how long it had spent in the water. It looked pretty battered. It was incomplete, broken.

The more I studied my find, the more reflective I got. I thought about the pollutants in our seas. The waves coughing up bits of plastic, just like this box, as they break upon the shore. Beach litter is at its highest level since records began. In particular, the plastic we find on our on shores has increased 146% since 1994. I then thought of the birds: over 90% of fulmars found dead around the north sea have plastic in their stomachs.

I realised that this fisherman’s box, charming though it was, is part of that sorry tale.