By common consent, Pete Sixsmith's essay on how the coronavirus pandemic was affecting life in a small town in County Durham - Shildon, my home town and his though neither of us was born there - has been among the highlights or this series. I am sure readers will tell me if they feel it's running out of steam but "hits", that is to say the number of visits to Salut!, suggest otherwise - yesterday, with a vital little push on Facebook from Bill Taylor, reached a record for Covid-19 Diaries (OK, not quite 600 but not a bad count for a piddling little site) ...
Here is Peter's follow-up. The teacher-turned-paper-boy is doing his bit for what even Boris now recognises as 'society' ...
SMALL TOWN VIEW 2
It’s Day 13 of the Great Lockdown.
The sun is shining over South West Durham but there is still an early spring chill in the air. I am wearing shorts for the first time since September and am toying with the idea of putting the winter bedding and clothes away. Maybe next week, when it’s Easter. It gives me something to look forward to.
This week has been slightly busier than last in that I have “done things.” As well as keeping people up to date with the news by ramming daily editions of the Northern Echo, Daily Mirror, Sun, Daily Star, Daily Mail, Times and Guardian through letterboxes, I am keeping active by doing shopping for those who either cannot get out or who don’t have any transport.
I enlisted with Age UK to help people even older than me to get their supplies. They seemed keen to take me on and when I said that I was DBS cleared, they went into the kind of paroxysms of delight that Jacob Rees-Mogg and Somerset Capital Management have when the stock market crashes and they can send out emails to their clients informing them that this is a good time to take advantage of those companies who are entering their death throes.
So, as an official volunteer, this week I have been out three times for five different people and to four different supermarkets. Queues have been well organised and, apart from two customers being hanged, drawn and quartered for taking too many toilet rolls in Morrisons at Barnard Castle, it’s been surprisingly trouble free.
The gentleman I went to Barney for furnished me with an extensive shopping list including food, the obligatory toilet rolls and even a reporters notebook of the type that I still see hacks using when they are trying (and failing) to write down something interesting and relevant from an Alok Sharma Downing Street briefing.
As I was about to set off, he called me back and said that he didn’t mind if I couldn’t get all that was on the list (he wanted a pangolin) but it was essential that I got the 48 cans of Strongbow and he gave me a small trolley to take aforementioned cans from car to bungalow. I got them but had to crawl to the back of the shelf to get the last twelve which I thought was well beyond the call of duty. It was worth it when I returned and saw the look on his face as I trundled the trolley up to his front door.
The next day, I was asked to go to Newton Aycliffe (always a difficult thing for a Shildon lad to do) and I sampled Aldi and Tesco. I had to queue for both, but they were well organised. Aldi was a positive experience, Tesco slightly less so. I found it too big to be comfortable in and there was just too much on the shelves. I wondered whether I had got the right kind of ham and the right bottle of sherry. Sometimes, we have too many choices. Maybe this pandemic will see a scaling down of giant stores into more local and more manageable ones.
In Shildon, we have no supermarkets. We used to have a Co-op and a Walter Willsons opposite each other. Walter put the shutters up years ago and the Co-op opened a large supermarket which eventually went to be replaced by Netto (fine if you wanted crisps and fizzy pop), then a Morrisons which eventually became a B and M Bargains store. Not a great deal of fresh produce there…
Now, the one bakers’ shop in the street, part of a small chain based in Newcastle, has closed. They say temporarily but I would be surprised if it reopened. The two butchers’ shops are still busy and the greengrocer still clutters up the street with his boxes and crates.
However, the owner is a UKIP member so I’m afraid he is on my on my “do not enter” list, alongside Wetherspoons, anything owned by Mike Ashley and Somerset Capital Management who have an office at Eldon Lane.
From this week, the paper shop is opening an hour later as the going to work/returning from work trade has dropped off the edge of the world. It means an extra hour in bed although I will have to listen to Hancock’s Half Hour on Wednesdays while still delivering and whistling the paper boy's obligatory cheerful tune.
Other than that, nothing much happens. The Arriva No 1 bus is still empty as it flashes past the bus stop – I haven’t seen anyone get on or off since this began. I witnessed a will for the couple three doors up, did some shopping for the mother and daughter at the top of the street and made hot drinks for the roofer next door.
As I write, there are reports that the lockdown is being ignored and people are “taking the sun”. It seems inevitable that the current restrictions will be extended to the end of April and that enforcement will cease to be advisory and become compulsory.
And that may well be when the ordure collides with the rotating blades of the domestic cooler. We shall see.
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