The Gypsy's Cafe is the monthly meeting ground for the gathering of the clan. In our last catch up, I was a very different person. This old me is excited to see them and the new is feeling hesitant. The four of us take our seats near the window. Susan orders her soy capp, Lainey ponders between peppermint and earl grey and Stella asks for an almond mocha. When our drinks come around I unzip my bag and pull out a metallic case. In there I keep my latest necessity.

'Oh my god, you actually got it.' Lainey says after sipping from her iced tea. They think it's so cute that I have my own carry-on metal straw. In that, they are right, it's quite cute. I drop it in my lemon-lime bitter drink and start stirring. 

I try to tell them that, 'honestly it is the least one can do, we should all be aiming for a plastic-free lifestyle.' They all agree of course. Agreeing to an idea is the easy part which is why we only discuss it for a few moments before Susan starts talking about how she's going to kick Burt's sorry-arse out. This kind of thing somehow stretches into an hour-long discussion in which I participate because that's what good friends do. I don't blame them for not being as pained as I am on the subject. They haven't seen what I have under the surface.

I don't mind the cold water and the slimy feel of seaweed, but what I do mind is the bobbing of bottles that follow the tides. Or the synthetic shopping bags swirling in the currents floating like Jelly Blubber. I've seen it all, I've swum in it. 

I've seen a plastic glove curl around coral with a fish trapped in its forefinger. I've seen the ingesting of cigarette butts and colourful food wrappings. I've seen bottle caps and beverage cans unable to decompose quick enough on land let alone in the ocean. I've seen a striped crustacean wielding a knife and it wasn't funny. Nor was the sea turtle's struggle against the clutch of a fishnet. The new me wants to tell the girls about the beach clean up coming up but I know they have no interest in picking up what isn't theirs. So instead I talk about my latest trip with the new boyfriend.

'He's vegan?' Susan questions astounded.

'Don't tell me you're going to try and feed me that tofu crap.' Stella remarks. Her jawline clenching tightly as she sips her almond mocha. I hadn't even mentioned I had "converted" but I smile at this and tell them a story about my latest adventure in the great barrier reef with the Vegan Boyfriend. How it wasn't the water that engorged me and how I didn't feel at home. I felt swallowed up by the world's second deadliest predator. I had found all kinds of trash amongst the dying. Tell me have you ever seen fish drown?