If the media are looking for some dynamic images of the economy revving up into motion today, they are unlikely to converge on Crich. Apart from Nisa and the Post Office nothing opens on Mondays anyway. The Mamas and Papas used to sing, “Monday Monday, so good to me.” Crich on this dank foggy morning had the air of one of those devastated planets Dr Who visits periodically, eerily empty apart from a few haunted looking characters creeping amongst the ruins. The low cloud seems to have muffled sound as well. Crich is normally a-buzz with conversation. For such a small place it has an amazing number of experts on everything from the economy to how to service a boiler and these invaluable opinions are normally being aired publicly for the benefit of all. But not today. There was a rather desultory queue outside the Post Office staring vacantly at the pavement. The one young person of course had a mobile phone to stare vacantly at and maybe the older generation for whom phones have always served the purpose of making phone calls, may have to reassess their use. They have a tremendous potential for being objects to stare vacantly at when one tires of the pavement. There was a queue of one outside Nisa staring vacantly at the parked car in front, but he is always there so I’m not sure if he was a queue or an installation, some naturalistic piece of public sculpture.
Worryingly I’m beginning to realise that lockdown is making some of us more stupid. I’ve been finding while writing this blog that my spelling is becoming highly irregular. I stare at the pink wiggly line determined not to go for automatic correct but to rectify it manually and just can’t visualise it. After interminable correct answers on my Duolingo German I’ve become completely muddled trying to conjugate essen. Deirdre is not exempt. A little while ago she asked me if I fancied a gin and tonic and then quarter of hour later asked me if I still wanted a gin and tonic. I think all this lockdown brain deterioration started with my fish, which for twenty years have always known in which corner of the pond I was going to drop their food. Now they go skimming around all over the place in total piscine stupidity. This pandemic of stupidity is to be expected of our world leaders, but it is very worrying when it spreads to the sane and sensible people of Crich. As I said earlier, they are known for their wise, well informed and well thought out reasoning on every topic. Now they can no longer prop up bars and assail us with loud opinions on race, religion and politics now they have been transferred to the queues outside the shops. There was the gentleman who informed me that all these new houses in Crich were being built because of immigrants. I stared around me astonished expecting a flotilla of rubber dinghies coming up the Cromford Canal. Next time I saw him he announced he was emigrating to Spain. The irony seemed to have escaped him. I’m now thinking that I may have mentioned this in an earlier blog – another example of this growing blight of stupidity.
It could be that we are becoming less stupid. A neighbour, who has been house-bound since late March, was telling me that she only asks for about 10 items per week from the lady who is doing her shopping. Now she can’t understand what it was she filled her trolley with every week – yet her stock in the pantry is not decreasing and she is saving money. Some of you might reason that she has been blessed in the way Elijah blessed the Widow of Zarephath in 1.Kings 17. Though what has always worried me about this story is that Elijah says, “Give me a loaf of bread” and never says “please.” I don’t think just because you’re a prophet you should be excused from being polite.
As I write Deirdre is engaged in a lively dialogue with Sainsbury’s Click and Collect website, punching keys and demanding a refund. Economic recovery for me means real shopping, being asleep in the car in Sainsbury’s car park and waking up when Deirdre arrives at the boot with her trolley. Recovery is always rapid as she bangs on the window. This has been a perfectly satisfactory arrangement for many years, though she prefers it if I’m not there at all.
TEAM SHOPPING
Rest your tired eyes dear husband of mine,
Relax and adjust your seat to recline,
Turn on the radio, Radio 4,
I’ll be gone just a moment into the store.
I really don’t need you, I shop better alone,
You can unload the bags when we get home.
I’ll do the shopping, you’d would go and get lost you see
Ponder the punctuation in Sainsbury’s apostrophe.
But man, proud man is more complicatedly built,
Deeply infused with that thing called guilt.
So I must ignore her, I will, I can go,
I can see her inside squeezing a mango.
It’s not with her pleasure that I see her heart leap,
She really would prefer me in the car asleep.
“No you can’t push the trolley!” as I seize it from her.
She likes to lean on it, so much for my honour.
But she has this ploy I can see it in her mind,
Lots of obscure products to go and try find,
Like throwing a dog’s stick into the sea,
Such a kindly way to get rid of me,
Like a nut free nut roast with Brussells pate,
Or filleted puffa fish in a sauce of satay,
Or chargrilled veg cous cous or plain mini naan,
Or lemon sole hake or tinned flambéed spam,
Or egg free penne pasta with quinoa flour,
Or chive and pak choi dip, fat free but not sour,
Or a Whiskas cat pouch poultry selection in jelly,
But we don’t have a cat! Just get it she’ll tell me,
Or super soft toilet tissue with aloe vera,
I’ll get the Singapore noodles first, they’re nearer.
I see her cross over the furthest aisle,
I run to catch up with her, but meanwhile
She’s vanished into fish cakes, or cereals or wine,
Then I catch a glimpse of her again, the second time,
In yogurts or snack bags or gluten free,
I’ll try to cut her off before she gets to aisle 3,
But she’s gone again vanished into thin air,
I try olives and teriyaki but she’s simply not there.
So I’m told to guard the trolley in the aisle in the middle.
I wait and suspect that she’s sneaked off to Lidle.
Then while I calculate the length of each queue
She’s decided for herself which one will do.
I’ll pack the bags while she finds vouchers to redeem
Us in perfect harmony, the perfect shopping team.