Covid: We went south for an adventure in the plague lands of the North (of England) – Susan Morrison
We had to head south to Sheffield this week, which meant travelling through the plague lands of the North of England.
We planned ahead. There would be a stop at Berwick. We like the Morrison’s supermarket there. The loos are always sparkling and they sell a very nice pre-mixed gin-in-a-tin, and if I’m going to be stuck in a Travelodge, I’ll need a treat of some kind.
We also planned to briefly halt at Durham, aware that this brought us deep into the danger zone. What if the car park was awash with the infected? No matter. I was prepared to do battle to get to the ladies’ loo. Trust me, it would take more than an undead army to stop me having a pee if I need to go.
Just in case I needed to throw some nifty moves, I watched a few episodes of The Walking Dead to get some zombie battle tips in.
Seems mainly to involve baseball bats and exploding eyeballs and I thought that was probably a little too extreme for Washington services. I settled for a mask and glaring at people.
The supermarket was shut. Did you know that supermarkets in England shut at 4pm on Sundays? What sort of insanity is this, I bellowed in the car park? My dreams of a Seville Orange gin in a tin were dashed in a car park by the A1. Oh, said my husband, I forgot. They shut nearly all the big shops on a Sunday afternoon.
These people are living in a retail dark age. I swear, people, there are times when I think Scotland should invade for the good of the people of the North. No wonder they panic buy down there. At any moment, it might be Sunday and where do you source a tin of anchovies, two scented candles and 65 rolls of toilet paper in a one-stop shop?
I was still ranting when we reached Durham. No sign of plague-ridden Northerners, but I still sprinted for the loos. It had been a long trip for an old bladder.
I’ll say this much for the pandemic. Public toilets have never been cleaner. It’s not that long ago that you opened that door like an NYPD cop looking for the on-the-run baddie hiding in the stalls.
If the lid was down, you heard the Jaws theme in your head. God knows what hid under there…
Even if all was well, the punchline could hit you when you raised your hand to an empty loo roll dispenser. Few women entered a public loo without a paper hanky to hand. There was always the kindness of strangers to call upon. A sister would always hand another sister a wad of roll under the door. Failing that, you could always stand on your head at the hot air hand dryer, which probably didn’t work.
No-one bothered with the soap dispensers, which, nine times out of ten, were only there as decorative objects.
Now, the battle against the virus means that service station loos throughout the land are clean enough to eat your dinner in, which is about the only place available to dine out in right now.