I am just back from the village.
As I set out I realised that I had a lot in common with my ancient ancestors – heading off into the surrounding countryside to see what I could forage in the way of supplies. I had neither crossbow nor rifle with me but the principle remains the same.
The only way my life has changed in the past few weeks is the complete disruption to my food supply. Normally I alternate between two grocery suppliers who deliver on a next day basis. They are both out of the equation now. I went into one site and all the slots are taken up to and including April 24th. That’s as high as their calendar goes. The other site just doesn’t work any more. So I am left to my own resources.
There is a bloke they keep wheeling out on television [something to do with some emergency committee or other]. He is the epitome of doom. For an expert, his forecasts are about as gloomy as possible. You can almost see the little black thundercloud hanging over his head. Recently he announced that if we weren’t all worried or scared then there was something seriously wrong with us. Not bad at a time when we are all supposed to be calm?
So I was worried [as he will be pleased to hear] but not scared. My life is exactly as it has been for years now. We are experts in the art of “social distancing” and even “social isolation” but we have always had plentiful supplies. Until now. The last time I was in the village I got the last two tiny bottles of milk which lasted for three days, but today I ran out.
So down I went to the village, somewhat full of trepidation.
I came back somewhat full of supplies.
I got milk, fruit, baccy and fags. I also got enough meals to do us into next week. No problem. The shelves were fully stocked and the only place that was closed was my coffee shop [and a couple of other shops of no interest which I had never even been in]
So Yer Man on the telly can go fuck himself.
I’m not worried any more.