Shopping in the Age of Coronavirus

Forgive me if I get a little ranty. I’m normally quite mellow. Not only would I never hurt a fly, I’d probably nurse it back to full health and support its life choices. But I’ve been shopping and need to vent. THREAD.

I’ve just come back from the weekly shop. I’m buying for an 85-year-old mother for whom the world stops spinning if she doesn’t get her weekly People’s Friend and, for some reason, Domestos. But it means mixing with other people. Which is a bit problematic. Let me count the ways.

Parents. Your children are, no doubt, the apples of your eye. They give you purpose and repay your love tenfold. To you they are everything. To me they’re Petri dishes with legs, rampaging through the aisles like a George Romero movie. May I suggest a leash of some sort?

And while we’re on the subject of your offspring, why are the teen ones with you? Shouldn’t they be at home playing violent video games and downloading Japanese pornography or something? If I’d had the choice between that and Tesco Yardley I’d be after the WiFi code in a flash.

Social distancing: you may have heard of this. It’s been all over the news. What you do in your own home is up to you. You can sneeze in grandma’s face and lick the door handles if you wish. But out here, 2 metres is 2 metres. Get that wrong and you surrender your driving licence

On the subject of simple directions: one way systems. The shop does this so we don’t all end up clumped together in World Foods as a seething mass of spluttering humanity. So follow the stonking great big arrows. If this is beyond you I think voting is strongly avoided in future.

Facemasks. The jury is still out in this one. Wear one if you think it helps. But it’s not a magic shield that means The Rules Do Not Apply Any More. If you invade my space in Cooked Meats with a N95 mask on, I will end you.

Some things remain eternal and immovable. Say “Excuse me” in a slightly loud voice when Mrs Facemask and her sticky offspring are blocking Canned Foods and all hell breaks out. British people: not scared of Coronavirus but will fill their undergarments at a bit of pass-agg.

Be nice to the people serving you. I asked the cashier if she was doing ok and the look of gratitude I got made me think she was going to ask me to marry her daughter. These are shitty times, so don’t add to the shittiness.

But seriously, who would have thought that a race of borderline-repressed introverts would be SO BAD at being socially-distant?

THREAD ENDS

And...relax.