[Continued from Part 1 published here yesterday]
The rest of the day passes by, with the occasional car, postie or delivery vans visible but then, almost as if a minister of the crown has issued another instruction to be passed on by the broadcast media, at 3.00pm the pavements and lanes in the Wold become alive to the sound of marching feet. Slowly at first, elderly couples, often holding hands, walk purposely, stopping only briefly to pass the time of day with others (usually at double the required social distance) before walking on; the early-retired or furloughed are next, recognised by a determined expression and almost all wearing this year’s must-have accessory the ‘puffa’ jacket, others who are kidding themselves that riding an expensive lightweight bicycle while clad in black lycra, or jogging six miles a day, is the way to eternal youth often wave a greeting as they rush past. By early evening a new wave, one can only assume tired of or bored by this social ‘porridge’ take to the now quieter lanes, often with children in tow. Last of all are the twenty- something women, clad in tightly fitting running gear, ponytails flailing in the wind as they run pell-mell along, often followed by a twenty something or possibly older male, complete with red face and perspiring profusely.
Then of course comes the day of our big decision, could we, with all honesty, use the car and drive to the supermarket for our weekly shop. Not our usual one of choice though, as that is not really local, the problem being that the Wold is situated about 15 miles from our three local establishments, two more urban than the third which is situated on the edge of town and can be reached by driving through rural, even in normal times, quiet roads. On the way we pass our local ‘farm shop’ fresh veg and milk only now but are currently operating a pre-pay order and pick up point, we are instructed to sound our horn on arrival as our personal shopper having picked and bagged our order will bring it out, no need to leave the car as the shopping will be placed in the cars boot.
Disinfectant wipes and nitrex gloves placed in the car we set off. As expected, the roads were quiet, apart from heavy goods vehicles, some with ‘foreign’ number plates showing the vehicle to have travelled across the continent to keep supply lines going, others with familiar company names, trundle on their way, cursed often by impatient drivers in normal times and still it seems their work goes unnoticed by some who fail to understand how shelves in supermarkets are refilled after panic buying emptied them
Our first stop was at temporary traffic lights about two miles from home, placed there for goddess know what reason, but with a couple of guys who were observing social distancing rules as they worked. Social distancing though I noticed did not extend to the drivers of vehicles, who for some inexplicable reason still tailgated the vehicle in front, odd as the roads are quieter now than most people can ever remember, probably that’s why, perhaps the drivers are feeling lonely.
On arrival at the supermarket we drove onto the car park, parking far away from other vehicles as did most others, I was ordered by Mrs N. to stay in the car, knowing that only one person would be allowed in the shop at a time, and she said, just as well ‘I don’t want you rushing me around I’m bound to forget something’. So after donning face mask, nitrex gloves over gloves and carefully folded shopping bags, off she went.
Left in the car, it was interesting watching. Cars arrived with both male and female occupants, some with masks but most with some form of hand protection, gloves or sanitiser, and if they went off together, interestingly the person always returning when told at entrance control ‘sorry only one person in at a time’ was always the male!
Most cars, of the twenty or so on this large 300 or so place car park, were parked deliberately by drivers at least two or three places apart and none were parked by the entrance as is usual. There is always an exception of course, Ms Millennium drove in and parked in between two parked cars for some reason, spent some minutes in the stationery car and emerged with nitrex gloves, face mask sunglasses and scarf – very sensible precautions I thought – but she then opened one of the car’s rear doors and emerged with Millennium Junior, sans any protection, and walked hand in hand into the shop. Difficult one that, she has all the protective gear, junior has none but then she may well have been a single mum doing the weekly shop, no child care available at the moment so how do you safeguard your offspring in a situation like that?
Keep your distance and keep washing your hands, I suppose.
A very British lock-down ! ….. First things first. – We must look after our bums, and at least six months of bog rolls is a mandatory purchase !
Newest theory on the shortage of eggs. It’s because all the parents at home with the kids are filling their time with Home Baking! Oh dear. I hoped they’d find out just how bad our education system is now.
Anyone got an explanation why the local shop has many choices of freezer to microwave MACARONI cheese portions. But sorry, we just can’t get the CAULIFLOWER CHEESE portions. I strongly suspect the person doing the ordering doesn’t know the difference between a green vegetable and a form of pasta.
No shortage of Easter eggs though! Half price before Easter – nobody dare buy them in case Plod hauls them up before the Beak!