I stood, tired and disinterested, in a supermarket line wondering what the hell I was doing.

Days before I'd been on assignment up north, taking pictures and soaking up the sun as I did most years.

But this might have to be the last year.

The last time.

What I saw on this trip was a hundred times worse than it had ever been.

So much litter!

So much plastic in the water and on the shore.

Plastic bags bobbing like alien jellyfish in waters that should have been, were, beautiful and pristine. Turtles wrapped in fishing line, plastic straws – used in one drink and then discarded for good, or in this case bad, now floating all around us.

Getting beautiful clear shots had been tough, coming home without a broken heart...............impossible.

All I wanted now was to go back to my own house, my own bed, curl up and sleep, forget!

But here I was, instead, with a calico bag in one hand and my daughter's hand in the other.

We stood there with our trolley waiting patiently as up ahead of us person after person argued and raged about having to pay 15 cents for reusable plastic bags.

"Last week we were getting free bags – this is an outrage!" the current customer, an older lady in sensible shoes and a colourful sundress was arguing.

I tried to tune out, wishing the little fruit stall up from our house had been open rather than this multinational conveyer belt of consumerism – zoning out as much as I could.

It must have worked.

I didn't feel my eight-year-old slip her hand from mine or feel her lift my phone from my bag.

And it wasn't until I heard the commotion up ahead that I saw her. Eight years old – going on 18 (as they are that age) placing a few dollars on the counter next to Ms Sensible Shoes, my phone in her hand and a Hessian-style bag in the other.

She was all pigtails, bright shiny eyes and disapproval.

"Here you go!" she said earnestly.

"This is a bag you can use over and over you just have to remember it. That's the hard bit but it's better than this," she added thrusting my phone towards the unsuspecting woman who was too shocked by the sudden intrusion by my feisty daughter not to look.

If Ms Sensible Shoes was going to say anything it died on her lips. Killed dead by pictures and by a child.

"It's my world too, you're only borrowing it and I'd like to be able to go with mum on assignment to take pictures of the fish one day," Abbie whispered like it was the biggest secret in the world. Then she turned on her heel and came back to me.

"I think you've earned a milkshake and I want to tell you about Ian McKiernan," I said cuddling her close

"Ok," she nodded.

"But no straw!"

"No baby, No Straw."