Since my last post, a mere few weeks ago, it seems that the Earth has stopped rotating anti-clockwise on its axis and decided to turn the other way. We seem to have entered a new reality usually found in dystopian paperbacks sold at airports or kitsch movies about the zombie apocalypse.
I am referring to the force know as COVID-19, the coronavirus which is rapidly altering the way we live, for now. The core of our social infrastructure, i.e. human interaction, is being unpicked in order to stem the potential deaths that this virus may cause and ease the burden it will inflict on the health services.
Here in London, all schools are now closed.* Citizens have been asked to work from home and avoid unnecessary travel. Restaurants, pubs, libraries, gyms, theaters; all places where people gather in dense numbers to interact have been instructed to close to try and 'flatten the curve,' to allow the NHS to try and cope with the anticipated influx of very ill people.
Some people I know feel this social cease and desist has happened too late and that we should have shut down several weeks ago. Others are slightly begrudging of the new social sanctions imposed but acknowledge that we all have to do our bit, whether we have symptoms or not.
In this new landscape, I thought it would be prudent to check on my folks in Australia who, being in their 70s fall into the high risk group should they catch corona and have been told to practice social distancing.
My folks and I are already socially distant, given that we live 10,000 miles apart. We are also very self reliant of one another and phone calls are now rare occurrences, replaced by a family Whatsapp chat. But if a global pandemic doesn't make you call your parents on the other side of the world, then I don't know what will.
Mum answered the phone and after a lecture about mask wearing and asking after the Grandchild, she moved onto the subject on everyone's lips.
Toilet Paper.
I noticed the early signs of the phenomena known as Panic Buying when I was getting ready to leave Australia in early March. Stocking up on Tim Tams one morning in the local IGA, I saw that the loo roll section was bare. When I returned to London days later, I got chatting to a staff member at Morrisons who showed me a photo on his phone of the loo roll aisle just one day before. Empty. He was restocking as we spoke and in light of what he'd said, I put down the 12 pack of bog roll I was going to buy and picked up the 24.
It's a good thing I did for weeks later, toilet roll has become like gold dust. People are queuing before supermarkets open to try and get some. Corner shops are hoarding it behind their counters, selling it only to 'regular customers.' Psychologists are saying that this global fixation with toilet paper is symptomatic of trying to maintain control at a time where things are chaotic and unknown. A local taxi driver told me he thought it was because people were full of shit.
Freud would have a field day.
Toilet paper has never been in short supply at my Mum's house. She is Chinese and therefore she buys bulk. In a gentler time, pre-Corona, visitors to our family house would gaze at wonder at the Great Wall of Toilet Paper assembled and marvel how we would never, ever run out.
Well.
Due to our recent visit to Australia, my family and I had depleted Mum's toilet paper inventory.
We were down to ten rolls when you left, she reported,'But I didn't worry. All those crazy people. As if we couldn't get toilet paper.
But she couldn't.
I went to Coles. I went to Woolies. None at Aldi's either.
So what happened? I asked. After all, this is a woman who in the 1980s was captured on the evening news limboing under a half open store door so she could be one of the first inside during a Boxing Day sale to nab a microwave that was 50% off.
Your Father and I woke up early one morning and he said, 'lets go shopping now before breakfast' so we went to a nearby Coles. But we didn't know where the loo paper aisle was because we don't usually shop there. There were already about 30 people waiting outside when we arrived.
So what did you do?
I said to your Father, it's easy. As soon as the shop opens, just follow the crowd. They'll lead us to the toilet paper.
And did they?
When I saw where the crowd were headed, I slipped around and went the back way. Got there before most of them.
How much did you buy?
36 rolls. It'll do.
It's reassuring to me at a time where so much is changing in an unprecedented way, that Mum always come up trumps when faced with a challenge. Loo roll or locusts, she'll find a way to overcome.
I hope in the months to follow, I've inherited her moxie.
*Most schools will remain open on a skeleton teaching crew for children of key workers
I am referring to the force know as COVID-19, the coronavirus which is rapidly altering the way we live, for now. The core of our social infrastructure, i.e. human interaction, is being unpicked in order to stem the potential deaths that this virus may cause and ease the burden it will inflict on the health services.
Here in London, all schools are now closed.* Citizens have been asked to work from home and avoid unnecessary travel. Restaurants, pubs, libraries, gyms, theaters; all places where people gather in dense numbers to interact have been instructed to close to try and 'flatten the curve,' to allow the NHS to try and cope with the anticipated influx of very ill people.
 |
| Squash that peak! |
Some people I know feel this social cease and desist has happened too late and that we should have shut down several weeks ago. Others are slightly begrudging of the new social sanctions imposed but acknowledge that we all have to do our bit, whether we have symptoms or not.
In this new landscape, I thought it would be prudent to check on my folks in Australia who, being in their 70s fall into the high risk group should they catch corona and have been told to practice social distancing.
My folks and I are already socially distant, given that we live 10,000 miles apart. We are also very self reliant of one another and phone calls are now rare occurrences, replaced by a family Whatsapp chat. But if a global pandemic doesn't make you call your parents on the other side of the world, then I don't know what will.
Mum answered the phone and after a lecture about mask wearing and asking after the Grandchild, she moved onto the subject on everyone's lips.
Toilet Paper.
I noticed the early signs of the phenomena known as Panic Buying when I was getting ready to leave Australia in early March. Stocking up on Tim Tams one morning in the local IGA, I saw that the loo roll section was bare. When I returned to London days later, I got chatting to a staff member at Morrisons who showed me a photo on his phone of the loo roll aisle just one day before. Empty. He was restocking as we spoke and in light of what he'd said, I put down the 12 pack of bog roll I was going to buy and picked up the 24.
 |
| How many bums are they going to wipe? |
It's a good thing I did for weeks later, toilet roll has become like gold dust. People are queuing before supermarkets open to try and get some. Corner shops are hoarding it behind their counters, selling it only to 'regular customers.' Psychologists are saying that this global fixation with toilet paper is symptomatic of trying to maintain control at a time where things are chaotic and unknown. A local taxi driver told me he thought it was because people were full of shit.
Freud would have a field day.
Toilet paper has never been in short supply at my Mum's house. She is Chinese and therefore she buys bulk. In a gentler time, pre-Corona, visitors to our family house would gaze at wonder at the Great Wall of Toilet Paper assembled and marvel how we would never, ever run out.
Well.
Due to our recent visit to Australia, my family and I had depleted Mum's toilet paper inventory.
We were down to ten rolls when you left, she reported,'But I didn't worry. All those crazy people. As if we couldn't get toilet paper.
But she couldn't.
I went to Coles. I went to Woolies. None at Aldi's either.
So what happened? I asked. After all, this is a woman who in the 1980s was captured on the evening news limboing under a half open store door so she could be one of the first inside during a Boxing Day sale to nab a microwave that was 50% off.
Your Father and I woke up early one morning and he said, 'lets go shopping now before breakfast' so we went to a nearby Coles. But we didn't know where the loo paper aisle was because we don't usually shop there. There were already about 30 people waiting outside when we arrived.
So what did you do?
I said to your Father, it's easy. As soon as the shop opens, just follow the crowd. They'll lead us to the toilet paper.
And did they?
When I saw where the crowd were headed, I slipped around and went the back way. Got there before most of them.
How much did you buy?
36 rolls. It'll do.
It's reassuring to me at a time where so much is changing in an unprecedented way, that Mum always come up trumps when faced with a challenge. Loo roll or locusts, she'll find a way to overcome.
I hope in the months to follow, I've inherited her moxie.
*Most schools will remain open on a skeleton teaching crew for children of key workers
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