Covid#2

I made it to Cornwall, via a minor triumph at a Bournemouth supermarket.  I found chicken!  Mum had asked me to keep my eyes open for some since it’s become so scarce.  Mother’s Day wouldn’t be Mother’s Day without a nice roast chicken!  In these strange, scary times, even that otherwise innocuous thought ends up making me feel sad, as I think of other people who won’t be spending Mother’s Day with their mums this year. 

The empty shelves in the supermarket have mystified me.  Living on my own, I never need much in the way of groceries; a bag of pasta, a four-pack of toilet rolls, a couple pints of milk, 500g of mince – it all lasts me ages compared to most households.  When you’re only cooking for one, a little goes a long way and it’s easier to improvise with whatever you can lay your hands on.  I’ve walked the barren aisles of the supermarket more in astonishment than despair.  Where do people put all the mountains of toilet rolls, pasta, meat and tinned things they’re buying?!

I’m pretty sure this panic-buying will pass before long, the shelves will refill and we’ll be able to get most of what we need once again.  Personally, I don’t doubt the supermarkets and the politicians when they tell us there’s plenty in the supply chain for all of us.  I wonder what it says about other people’s trust in our politicians and our retailers that they seem to not believe them.  Am I being naïve (again)?  I only hope that the very real despair and the tears of older people and emergency services staff who can’t get the groceries they need has more of an impact on the panic-buyers.  Their anguish really is heart-breaking.

The drive to Cornwall felt strange.  I thought the roads would be quiet but they seemed much the same as every other time I’ve driven down.  It made me feel less guilty about embarking on unessential travel.  I listened to podcasts – not a word about coronavirus for a whole four hours!  The local pub here is open and through the window I saw people playing pool, laughing and drinking with their mates.  It all reinforces the strange sense that nothing’s changed and everything is carrying on as normal, even while knowing that not far away this virus is killing people.  167 people have died in England now.  This is the lull before the storm.

It’s the last night for a long time that those mates will gather in the local pub.  They’re all closing from tonight, along with bars, restaurants and cafes, and cinemas, theatres, nightclubs and gyms will follow in the next day or so, all by order of the PM.  

Just as I was beginning to see results from my renewed enthusiasm for the gym too.