Last week I was having dinner with an old university friend, and in between exchanging stories about family life (his son, my beagle), he asked me why I was suddenly writing so much about climate change. Back in halls, he recalled, I barely gave it a second thought.
This is true. Twelve years ago, when the levels of carbon dioxide in our atmosphere had already reached 390 parts per million and temperatures warmed by nearly one degree celsius above pre-industrial averages, I wasn’t thinking very much about the climate. I was too busy trying (and failing) to find someone to date me and working out how to make pasta without a kettle or stove.
