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Writer's pictureAngela M

What a week!


ID 113138005 © Valeriy Kachaev | Dreamstime.com

 

At a time when Coronavirus is uppermost in all our thoughts and mind, I like many other people have been avidly reading about all things COVID-19. From prevention advice to government responses and statistics on international contagion and mortality, I’ve perused it all. But there’s one aspect I still haven’t been able to figure out.

Why do households suddenly need a year’s army size rations of loo roll and pasta?

Now I don’t believe in hysteria shopping and refuse to be panicked into it. It’s a selfish approach which imposes on the rest of society shortages they wouldn’t otherwise have had. I’ve always believed that if you have a sensible supply of essentials and non-perishables and you’re prepared to flex your diet you’ll be fine, ergo there is life without pasta.


Don’t get me wrong, I can see the rationale for ensuring your household has a stock of soap and handwash, particularly given the current crisis, but there’s a world of difference between taking sensible precautions and walking off with the entire shelf. Just yesterday I popped into my local 24 hour superstore and passed a shop assistant gesticulating towards a large empty shelf and complaining to her colleague that someone had just been in and bought the entire stock of evaporated milk.


But the million dollar question for me is why the somewhat bizarre and irrational choice of items selected for hoarding. Take toilet roll. Do people:

a) Think they need to radically increase/improve their bottom wiping as a key Corona prevention technique? If so I shudder to think of the lavatorial hygiene standards being practiced up until last month (particularly since they were apparently not buying sufficient handwash either – eek!)…

b) Expect to be quarantined for up to a year and anticipate whiling away most of that time on the loo?

c) Know something I don’t (generally not difficult!) but specifically about Coronavirus causing mass diarrhoea symptoms?


Then there’s the bottled water rampage, perhaps due to a misguided view that:

a) The virus is spread via water mains

b) A water shortage is just around the corner

c) When in doubt, hoard away – anything could prove useful!

If anyone knows the answers or has a theory re the above please, please let me know.

Meanwhile, perhaps it’s time to re-introduce rationing …

As well as testing our common sense, the current crisis is challenging us to reassess our behaviours and lifestyle choices. In some countries, the imposition of national lockdowns and curfews has removed some of the crucial dilemmas its citizens would otherwise face.


For others of us the conundrums remain – should we completely curtail all social activities or perhaps just restrict them? If opting for the latter, how far (literally) should we go, how often, what types of activities are in and what’s out, where do we draw the line?


I’m guessing that in the current era of social distancing, dating has for many people been relegated to the ‘pending’ list this season. I have to admit entering that brave new metropolis three years ago came as something of a shock to me when my dearly beloved and I became somewhat less dearly divorced after more than thirty years together.


The last time I had been in the dating den I was 19, firm and bouncy all over and brimming with the kind of confidence wrought by a sharp mind, a firm set of buttocks, and a plentiful supply of collagen (which I had barely heard of, let alone ever given any thought to).


Fast forward thirty three years, and there I was down to only one of three of the above. I was comforted however by the thought that the arena of single minded, hot blooded boys I used to sport in had been replaced by a sort of sophisticated salon in which a selection wiser, more mature, contemplative, and decidedly less sex-obsessed contestants elegantly reposed.


Well let’s see how that panned out. Firstly, I was surprised at how much unsophisticated - and in some cases rather drunken - leering and grabbing there still seemed to be out there.


Secondly, despite presumably decades of practice, so many of them didn’t seem to have honed their kissing skills. I would say my complaints/observations ranged from ‘too sucky’ to ‘too sloppy’. Initially I thought that maybe the problem was that I was looking in the wrong places, but I have since swept the board of dating tools from the all-purpose sites and apps to the ones which offered ‘a fresh take on 50+ dating’ or purported to ‘help you find true compatibility’.

Yes, size really does matter

And what a journey it’s been. In addition to the aforementioned suckers and slobberers, there was the grabber with fingers like Gollum and an intense, piercing and somewhat imploring stare. He kept asking in a rather pleady, needy way if he could hold my hand/stroke my arm/sit closer/take selfie with. As you can imagine I dispensed with him rapidly, although looking back on it, probably not quite speedily enough - it was early days and I still had much to learn.


Next there was a very sweet but assuredly tiny man. I refer here to his lack of height, by the way – we never got far enough for me to see if this diminutive trait was replicated elsewhere on his anatomy. Before anyone can accuse me of sizeism I have to clarify for anyone who doesn’t know me well that standing upright, pre-drinks, without a prevailing wind, I achieve just 5’2”. But for some reason I find myself most attracted to elongated men, rather to the annoyance of tall women who feel that people like myself are draining their limited pool of suitable men.


Anyway, on this occasion had I managed persuade myself that my self-imposed height restrictions were somewhat shallow, especially as he seemed so nice, and so I found myself on said date. As soon as he toddled into sight I knew I’d made a mistake and should have stuck to my frivolous principles. Plus he didn’t have much oomph, or enough humour to contribute to the communal pot. The date ended reasonably swiftly but it has taken a while to extricate him as a ‘friend’; years later I still find myself responding to his somewhat banal but thankfully increasingly occasional messages.


There was another chap who was more promising, fairly good fun; we had some pleasant times. He was a little unfit though, and on one occasion announced proudly that he could manage five press-ups, which I found amusing until it dawned on me that he was serious. I then realised that this accounted for some rather key deficiencies which had recently come to light. Next!


Anyway, suffice to say that in the intervening years I’ve met my share – from dull dudes to keen, cute but sadly too youthful whippersnappers, and everyone in between. Nowadays I’m happily ensconced in the arms of MB who meets the no slobber rule, leaps the fitness bar with ease, and has thus been tickling my fancy with great aplomb for several months. On that subject, more later.








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