Donโt really have a bio cause I donโt fit in any boxes sorry ๐คท๐ปโโ๏ธyou know where to shove your boxes ๐ Donโt follow me, Iโve no idea where Iโm going.
Chloe woke up at 6:45am and immediately felt proud of herself.
She had, after all, not eaten a single animal product in four years. The planet was healing. She could feel it.
6:52am - Applied her morning SPF. The SPF contains beeswax. Chloe does not know this. Moving on.
7:10am - Breakfast: a smoothie containing avocado. The avocado was grown in Michoacรกn, Mexico, on land where a pine forest was until 2019. It required approximately 320 litres of water to produce. It was flown to the UK. Chloe sprinkled hemp seeds on top. The hemp seeds came from China. Chloe felt connected to the earth.
8:00am - Got dressed. Polyester leggings, derived from crude oil. A bamboo top that was processed using carbon disulphide in a Taiwanese chemical plant. Trainers with a recycled plastic upper that sheds microplastics into waterways with every wash. Chloe's outfit today had a higher carbon footprint than a ribeye steak. Chloe does not know this either.
9:30am - Posted on Instagram about choosing compassion. The phone was manufactured in a Shenzhen factory using cobalt from the DRC, where mining operations have displaced local communities and killed an unknowable number of small mammals, reptiles, and insects. The algorithm served Chloe an ad for oat milk. Chloe liked it.
12:00pm - Lunch: tofu stir-fry. The soy was grown in Brazil. Brazil produces more soy than almost any country on earth. The primary reason is soybean oil: one of the most widely used industrial and culinary oils on the planet. The soymeal left over after oil extraction is fed to livestock as a byproduct. Chloe is aware of the livestock connection and finds it outrageous. She has not looked into why the soy was grown in the first place. The answer is the oil. The oil is in her salad dressing.
1:30pm - Drove to the garden centre. The car runs on petrol. Chloe has a Just Stop Oil sticker on the bumper. This is not being commented on further.
3:00pm - Bought a monstera. The monstera was grown in a Dutch greenhouse using natural gas heating. Chloe put it next to the pothos that is slowly poisoning the neighbourhood cats.
6:00pm - Dinner: pasta with cashew cream sauce. The cashews were processed in Vietnam, often by workers in conditions that would prompt significant commentary if they were in an abattoir.
8:00pm - Watched a documentary about factory farming. Wept. Posted about it. Caption: "We have to do better."
Chloe is, by every measure she has chosen to measure by, doing brilliantly.
By some of the others, the picture is more complicated.
Chloe has not chosen to measure by those.
For one day the whole world turns green ๐
From the Empire State Building in New York
to Niagara Falls in Canada
to the Leaning Tower of Pisa in Italy
to Madrid, Brussels, Auckland & beyond โ๏ธโ๏ธ
Iconic landmarks across the globe light up for Ireland ๐ฎ๐ช
#StPatricks2026#Ireland
๐ Sixty Seconds That Shamed the Stands
Elland Road has heard fury before. It has shaken with tribal thunder and righteous anger. Last night it managed something smaller, meaner.
A minute. That was all it took.
A short, league-approved pause so three footballers could take water and a little sustenance after a day of fasting for Ramadan. Rayan Cherki, Omar Marmoush, and Rayan Ait Nouri had done what countless Muslims do each year: balance faith and daily life with quiet discipline. The reason was spelt out on the big screen. No mystery, no subterfuge.
The response was boos.
Not confusion. Not impatience. Boos.
Pep Guardiola called for respect for diversity. It shouldn't be a daring plea in 2026. The protocol has existed for years. The break came at a natural stoppage. No advantage sought, none gained. They drank, they swallowed a few vitamins, they played on. They won.
And still the jeering rolled down from the stands, as if sixty seconds of basic consideration were an assault on the game itself.
I was disappointed and angered by the boos, but in this world, not surprised. We've made a habit of mistaking intolerance for strength. It's easier to sneer than to understand. Easier to divide than to share space.
Football loves to wrap itself in the language of community. Community demands maturity. It asks that we recognise the game belongs to more than one creed, more than one colour, more than one tradition.
If a brief pause for faith provokes outrage, then the problem lies not with those observing Ramadan. It lies with those who see respect as surrender.
Sixty seconds. That was the test. Too many failed it.