A moment that changed me: my grandpa risks his life to litter pick – and he taught me a profound lesson

I’ve always thought of myself as a good person: a good citizen and a good member of my community – at least in the ethical sense of the word. I presumed being good required refraining from harming the world and the people within it. An example of this being that I never litter.

However, when I moved home to Staffordshire after graduating in the summer of 2025, my understanding of what it means to be a good citizen – what it means to be “good” altogether – changed significantly.

It began earlier this year. I was on a walk with my dog and decided to switch up my usual route and head to the canal for a change of scenery. I soon bumped into my grandpa, Nicholas – who lives in the same village as us – not on the towpath but scrambling up a nearby ditch. He was beaming with pride, wielding a litter picker in one hand and a bag filled with rubbish in the other.

It turned out that my grandpa, even at 83, spends an hour or so almost every day litter picking. And I mean the extreme version of litter picking, where no rubbish, no matter how difficult it is to reach, will go unpicked. I knew he was a fan of keeping the village tidy, but I had no idea of his dedication to the cause.

It’s not an exaggeration to say he risks his life for the sake of cleaning up our area; clambering into bogs to reach an empty Pot Noodle packet, climbing up a tree to access dog poo bags left dangling in mid-air, and scavenging through thorns to get his hands on empty beer cans. He’s prepared to fall into the canal for the sake of removing large logs that might damage passing boats. The lengths he goes to are as anxiety-inducing as they are heartwarming.

Besides the odd litter-picking session at school, usually forced upon us for disciplinary reasons, I had never participated in this activity myself. I would never have dreamed of littering, but I was not the sort of person who would look at abandoned rubbish and decide to clean it up, either. But, when you see your grandpa about to fling himself into a bush to retrieve an empty crisp packet, it’s hard not to get involved.

Soon, I fell into an almost daily routine: I would set off on my walk with the dog and a good podcast – then, halfway through, I would find myself, litter picker in hand, being directed by my grandpa to fetch whatever the general public had decided to dispose of that day.

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And it wasn’t always just litter picking. Once, after a terrible storm, we spent half an hour straightening and restaking the recently planted tree saplings that had been blown over in the wind. Now, I take great pride in walking past said saplings, which are looking stronger and more sturdy by the day.

I practise my grandpa’s teachings even when we’re not on a litter-picking excursion. Never again will I walk past a stray can or takeaway cup without picking it up and disposing of it in the nearest bin. And, after spending so much time contemplating what we throw away, I am pursuing more sustainable methods of shopping, eating and drinking whenever possible. My experience with litter has revolutionised the way I buy and bin all manner of things, from coffee cups to fast fashion.

I have come to realise that being a good citizen requires so much more than holding the “correct” views on international events or simply avoiding being “bad”. It’s about going out of your way to be helpful and making a positive contribution to society. It’s making a practical effort to effect change, even if only on a small scale – rather than simply aligning yourself with grand worldviews.

In truth, this is something I had forgotten. It’s become the norm to feel like following activist Instagram accounts and reposting messages of love and hope are enough to cement your moral status. But, while there might be some value in spreading positivity online, it certainly isn’t the only thing we can and should be doing if we want to make a difference.

This has sparked a wonderful ripple effect in my life. I now engage far more with others in the community – boaters along the canal, appreciative of my clean-up efforts, have been more willing to share their fascinating stories of life on the water. It’s got me thinking about what more I can do for my local area in the future. It’s also made me love my home town even more than I did before. And above all else, it’s left me itching to know more about my grandpa’s life and what other extreme hobbies he might have up his sleeve.