Cool heads are long gone, as ‘we’ becomes ‘me’
LET ME share with you a story.
Parts of this you will find extremely hard to believe.
But trust me, this actually happened.
It was a Wednesday morning.
A brooding sky matched the post-apocalyptic mood starting to take hold of society as we know it.
As we traversed the Nicklin Way, there was a steady stream of traffic. Not gridlock.
We actually went 70km/h most of the way.
It was the first sign that the world was changing.
We got to the industrial estate and my daughter was the only one in her swim class.
Cancellations had spiked in the previous week.
Twenty-five laps later and we were done.
Back on the Nicklin Way we went, until we pulled into the local shops.
Parking the car was a breeze.
'We are sold out of mince', the butcher's sign said.
Sign number four.
The zombie apocalypse was upon us.
Despite my urges to hijack a semi-trailer and back it up to the front of the fruit shop, as so many others seem to be doing, I didn't.
Instead my daughter and I did something rarely seen in these parts in the past fortnight.
We picked up a single, solitary shopping basket.
I know, right.
How were we going to fit 983 oranges and enough potatoes to fill a skip bin into a simple shopping basket?
The answer will shock you.
We were only there to buy what we needed for the next week or so!
As tempting as it was to try and hoard enough fruit and vegetables to feed a small continent, we instead opted to grab the basics we needed to see us through the next week or so.
Even more incredible.
We managed to complete the shop in a civil manner.
We didn't punch anyone over the last cucumber, or ram a trolley in a bitter watermelon war.
We even said hello to a fellow shopper and exchanged a smile and a laugh.
We're coronavirus free, but were showing symptoms of a rare condition.
To the butcher we went next.
Rather than splashing a couple of weeks wages on a new chest freezer in the event we'd be joining many others in doomsday prepping, we opted to grab half a kilo of beef, a few sausages and some pork.
Enough to get us through the next week or so, not enough meat to decimate an entire herd of cattle.
My inquiry about the availability of any toilet paper or handwash at the chemist was met with the laughter it deserved. I only wanted one pack, but what was I thinking?
Seriously, the rapid spiral of society, even here, is embarrassing.
The panic buying is ludicrous. Be smart, listen to the medical expert advice, look after the vulnerable, support small businesses, and if we keep a sense of community, we can get through this together.