I AM shocked and appalled to read that tonnes of recycling are being burned every day. After the hours I spent sorting out bottles and boxes after Christmas as well.

I could’ve just thrown them on a bonfire and been done with it.

As I said ineloquently to the husband, nothing is ever real.

There is always a hidden clause or a catch.

It’s awful to think you are being led up the garden path, on a merry goose chase.

I never wanted to be a suspicious sort of person but it’s hard sometimes, when nothing is as it appears.

Don’t you wish life was a bit more like an episode of Scooby Doo, and we could catch the bad guys and hear them say “I could have got away with it too, if it wasn’t for you meddling kids”.

One of my least favourite phrases, normally spoken by people who think the world is run by the Rothschilds and 9/11 never happened, goes “that’s what they want you to think”.

I used to want to punch people who said it, but I’m starting to think they might be right.

I was talking to the husband about getting a new Hoover the other day, (romance isn’t dead in our house) and not half an hour later, an advert for the exact Hoover I was coveting, came up on my Facebook ads.

Not wanting to jump to conclusions, we started talking about fridges, and low and behold, they started popping up on our Facebook ads soon afterwards too.

Now I can say with certainty that our lives are one big episode of Big Brother and aliens are watching us and laughing like hyenas (who probably don’t laugh at all, that’s just want they want us to think).

Now I’m not sure about anything.

Are avocados really good for us, or is that just what they want us to think?

It’s a conundrum. I don’t know who I am any more.

I’ve been doing some research, but I can’t trust anything I read.

It makes me want to go and live on a secluded island where nothing can influence my decisions.

I could sail there on a boat I made from my recycling (instead of burning it).

I’d have to eat what I foraged, whether I liked it, or just thought I liked it, or not.

I’d sleep in a tree, not on the memory foam mattress I was conned into buying after reading made-up testimonials online.

I’d fashion clothes from palm leaves and shoes from coconut shells and life would be like the nonsensical Owl And The Pussycat poem by Edward Lear.

Thinking about it, who’s to say an owl and a pussycat didn’t go to sea in a beautiful pea green boat, armed only with honey, money and a guitar?

Life is really all lies.

We’re also being lied to about the number of rough sleepers in Brighton. Councillor Robert Nemeth said that the headcount in November “was carried out on one of the most dreadful nights of the year, in snowy conditions, when it was obviously lower” and only 64 people were counted, down from an earlier number of 178.

See what I mean?

We can’t trust anything or anything.

I might start using my cat as a judge of character.

She doesn’t suffer fools gladly.

In fact, she doesn’t suffer anyone.

I’ve yet to see her in a good mood.

Maybe that’s the way to be though. Selfish, self-satisfied and most of the time asleep.

My dog would undoubtedly prove to be a less reliable source.

He would do anything for a sausage, and it wouldn’t even have to be a good one.

In fact, it wouldn’t even had to have been cooked first.

It’s another reason why growing up should be illegal.

My youngest daughter tucks all her teddies into bed.

She gives them so much cover that she has none left for herself and is cold.

The world is going to eat her up, but I don’t want to be the one to tell her the teddies are just stuffed bits of fabric made by unpaid children in third world counties.

I’m reading them When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit by Judith Kerr.

They keep stopping me mid-sentence and asking me “Why Mummy. Why would anyone do that?”

In response all I can tell them is “life isn’t always nice, and people are not always good and kind.

“Now go to sleep and have sweet dreams.”

Maybe, without sounding like a wet blanket, the only thing we can trust is (wait for it, you’ll like this one) love.