Parkin' Some Thoughts by Nick Hazell
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A Bum Deal
She was only a small lady. In her sixties I’d say. She was behind me furtively looking at the shelves of supplies in the Italian deli where I happened to be ordering lunch. Slowly she began transferring all 10 packets of dried spaghetti on display to the counter. Maybe, I thought, she was planning a carb loaded dinner to bulk up her slight build. I then noticed the bags she had come in with were stuffed full of toilet rolls. Perhaps, I deduced, she had concerns about the quality of her cooking and its likely after effects.
Then it hit me like a wet fish to the temple. I was witnessing panic buying on the streets of New Malden. A peculiar type of panic though. I mean, what makes a person think the answer to the pandemic of a generation lies in a surfeit of pasta and the knowledge that how ever bad things get, you’ll still be able to wipe your bottom?
It is a strange time we find ourselves in. Almost every aspect of the normal lives we have enjoyed faces a nauseating voyage on the sea of uncharted waters as the Coronavirus storm takes hold. Borders are closed, stock markets have bombed, holidays cancelled and there are empty shelves where toilet rolls once stood. The internationally recognised sign of alarm can now be seen as a red rimmed triangle with a bog roll in the middle. Fights have broken out, people have been mugged, shopping trolleys hi-jacked all to ensure that any period of self isolation won’t be undermined by the absence of something soft, strong and thoroughly absorbent. Toilet paper fever has been transmitted on the back of COVID-19.
A quick search of the internet suggests this issue important enough to require the learned consideration of eminent behavioural scientists and psychologists. In their wisdom they cite the natural instinct amongst some of us to over-prepare, to do something we feel in control of in a time where everything seems to be so unpredictable or simply to follow the herd. An empty shelf must be a sign of something we really need so we must have more.
Whatever the reason, amidst all the chaos I’m just struck by how powerful these impulses are. We don’t need to be stockpiling but we feel compelled to do it. We can’t resist the urge. We’re helpless against its pull. It’s the big red button marked “do not press” we can’t stop ourselves from pressing. The more we’re told not to do something the more likely we are to do it and in uncertain times objective assessment gives way quickly to irrational and neurotic behaviour. It’s madness on a George III scale.
Anyway, I suspect this isn’t the only sign of irrational behaviour we shall see over the coming days, weeks and beyond as social distancing and self isolation battle between themselves to become the most over used phrase of the year. In fact, I’ve just perused the latest Government advice on the subject which seems to suggest us Parky’s need to hide in a cupboard for the next 3 months. Unfortunately that won’t be possible Chez Hazell. The space has been taken up by the 35 toilet rolls that have just been delivered from our on-line supplier. Well, with an immune system like mine there’s no way I’m going to a supermarket.
She was only a small lady. In her sixties I’d say. She was behind me furtively looking at the shelves of supplies in the Italian deli where I happened to be ordering lunch. Slowly she began transferring all 10 packets of dried spaghetti on display to the counter. Maybe, I thought, she was planning a carb loaded dinner to bulk up her slight build. I then noticed the bags she had come in with were stuffed full of toilet rolls. Perhaps, I deduced, she had concerns about the quality of her cooking and its likely after effects.
Then it hit me like a wet fish to the temple. I was witnessing panic buying on the streets of New Malden. A peculiar type of panic though. I mean, what makes a person think the answer to the pandemic of a generation lies in a surfeit of pasta and the knowledge that how ever bad things get, you’ll still be able to wipe your bottom?
It is a strange time we find ourselves in. Almost every aspect of the normal lives we have enjoyed faces a nauseating voyage on the sea of uncharted waters as the Coronavirus storm takes hold. Borders are closed, stock markets have bombed, holidays cancelled and there are empty shelves where toilet rolls once stood. The internationally recognised sign of alarm can now be seen as a red rimmed triangle with a bog roll in the middle. Fights have broken out, people have been mugged, shopping trolleys hi-jacked all to ensure that any period of self isolation won’t be undermined by the absence of something soft, strong and thoroughly absorbent. Toilet paper fever has been transmitted on the back of COVID-19.
A quick search of the internet suggests this issue important enough to require the learned consideration of eminent behavioural scientists and psychologists. In their wisdom they cite the natural instinct amongst some of us to over-prepare, to do something we feel in control of in a time where everything seems to be so unpredictable or simply to follow the herd. An empty shelf must be a sign of something we really need so we must have more.
Whatever the reason, amidst all the chaos I’m just struck by how powerful these impulses are. We don’t need to be stockpiling but we feel compelled to do it. We can’t resist the urge. We’re helpless against its pull. It’s the big red button marked “do not press” we can’t stop ourselves from pressing. The more we’re told not to do something the more likely we are to do it and in uncertain times objective assessment gives way quickly to irrational and neurotic behaviour. It’s madness on a George III scale.
Anyway, I suspect this isn’t the only sign of irrational behaviour we shall see over the coming days, weeks and beyond as social distancing and self isolation battle between themselves to become the most over used phrase of the year. In fact, I’ve just perused the latest Government advice on the subject which seems to suggest us Parky’s need to hide in a cupboard for the next 3 months. Unfortunately that won’t be possible Chez Hazell. The space has been taken up by the 35 toilet rolls that have just been delivered from our on-line supplier. Well, with an immune system like mine there’s no way I’m going to a supermarket.