Raiding the pantry

A few weeks back I returned from a two and a half week regional road trip through Victoria to Adelaide and Kangaroo Island. When we left, people were being encouraged to visit fire-ravaged regional centres to help boost local economies. By the time we were on the way back everyone was being urged to stay home to help reduce the spread of pestilence. We had heard about hoarding and food shortages and we had seen the empty shelves, usually filled with toilet paper, everywhere we passed. As we headed home, I pondered exactly how long we could survive on what was already in our pantry – how many meals we were already sitting on as a result of routine shopping before that time of hoarding and excess.

A few weeks back my fellow traveller and I returned from a two and a half week regional road trip through Victoria to Adelaide and Kangaroo Island – all the good places, Strathalbyn, Penola, Dunkeld, Daylesford and Beechworth. How the world turns. When we left, people were being encouraged to visit fire-ravaged regional centres to help boost local economies. By the time we were on the way back everyone was being urged to stay home to help reduce the spread of pestilence. My favourite towns all rapidly emptied as we passed though – ghost towns of takeaways and hand sanitiser.

 At Daylesford, Victoria shut down - ghost towns of takeaways and hand sanitiser.

We had heard about hoarding and food shortages and we had seen the empty shelves, usually filled with toilet paper, everywhere we passed. One commentator asked if we were facing a coronavirus – or a moronavirus. As we headed home, I pondered exactly how long we could survive on what was already in our pantry – how many meals we were already sitting as a result of routine shopping before that time of hoarding and excess. Supplemented with what was still alive in the tiny vegetable garden, who knew how long we could survive.

‘When we left, people were being encouraged to visit fire-ravaged regional centres to help boost local economies. By the time we were on the way back everyone was being urged to stay home to help reduce the spread of pestilence.’

The thought of what this crisis would do to small business made me feel sick. They are not just places you buy goods and services, they are part of the layout of the everyday. If we lose them – as we will – it will be like your whole garden dying. In their place we'll see more large scale generica. I suspect that one of the side effects of this modern plague will be to make us all live more simply, as our parents did.

While we were on Kangaroo Island I messaged a friend in Tasmania who had recently returned early from London and self-quarantined. Tasmania had just been closed to interstate visitors. I said it was probably good in these uncertain times to be on a small island off another island – then realised that that is exactly where we were, too. Back home we already knew people in self isolation – what I'm calling house arrest!

Outbreak of reaching out
Almost as bad at the outbreak of coronavirus was the outbreak of reaching out. Every organisation I had ever dealt with seemed to have emailed to say they were reaching out to me. I was used to some of them reaching out into my pockets, but this was a new level of effort.

Driving through the pine forests of South East South Australia, I was conscious they produced much of the toilet paper being hoarded by out of control shoppers. I hope the region does well out of it. No matter how much panic buying and hoarding occurs, I guarantee there will always be endless stocks of tofu and chick peas – or chic peas, as I like to call them. I did wonder whether profiteering should be an offence, enforceable by law, but then we live in a world where profiteering is usually seen as a virtue.

‘Times were becoming very strange. Driving through the back blocks of country Victoria, on a road we'd never driven on before with hardly anyone else around, I realised that without even trying, we were not only social distancing, but even self-isolating in our car.’

We made it to Daylesford, as we crossed borders on the way home. After checking in we had a drink in a tremendous little wine shop, followed by a counter meal at the Daylesford Hotel. Almost everything was closing from noon the next day, but hopefully not the two borders we had yet to cross. We were going to make a run for it, just in case. Times were becoming very strange. Driving through the back blocks of country Victoria, on a road we'd never driven on before with hardly anyone else around, I realised that without even trying, we were not only social distancing, but even self-isolating in our car.

I was travelling home with my mother's ashes in the back of the car, which seemed weirdly appropriate in the increasingly apocalyptic times of fire and drought and modern plagues. It was somehow apt that on what could turn out to be our last trip for some time, we were travelling through some of our favourite country.

Memories of earlier chaos
As we travelled, the crisis was unleashing many memories of earlier periods of chaos. This current looming pandemic made me think of our visit to Edinburgh in 2017. During the plague there in the Middle Ages, the town fathers sealed up a whole street of the dead and dying in the Old Town, and it remained sealed till our own times. When we travel we listen to lots of radio. On the trip we'd heard interviews with an American journalist who flew out of Saigon with his Vietnamese family on a helicopter from the roof of the US Embassy, as North Vietnamese tanks crashed through the gates and artillery targetted them.

Years ago I used to work with someone who grew up in Belfast during the Troubles. Every night before they went to bed, they would fill the bath with water in case bombs destroyed the water supply overnight. When I lived in Adelaide many decades ago we had regular power outages. We used to go camping all the time, so we'd break out the camp stoves and gas lights. All of it seemed strangely in tune with our current tumultuous times.

‘I used to work with someone who grew up in Belfast during the Troubles. Every night before they went to bed, they would fill the bath with water in case bombs destroyed the water supply overnight.’

Ironically all the places we were coming from – mainly regional centres – had no infection at that stage and all the places where we were heading had mounting numbers. Cities and towns everywhere looked as though they'd been hit by a neutron bomb – a notorious weapon that kills everyone but leaves property intact, the perfect neo-liberal dream. All being well, we’d be back home that day.

We were welcomed by a seemingly empty town. It was time to hunker down in the home bunker for who knew how long. Luckily I had started making my own pasta before we went away – and the vegetable garden was still in good shape. If you go away for two and a half weeks, though, some things, like pumpkins, go crazy. The back door was besieged by pumpkin tendrils. I started my audit of our cupboards. In the fridge a whole unused raddichio had survived our two and a half week absence – a hardy lettuce for hard times. Sadly the milk container that was usually attached to the espresso machine – which I had neglected to empty before we left – had lumpified. I scraped it out but it did remind me of the wise observation that when milk products go off they simply turn into other milk products.

Scanning the pantry also led to me throwing out a considerable amount – flour, dried spices and herbs, some many years past their use by date. Some had travelled with us through several house moves. Some deserved to be donated to a museum, as a historical relic with their very own label. It was good to be home.

© Stephen Cassidy 2020

See also

Beyond a joke – surviving troubled times
‘We live in troubled times – but then can anyone ever say that they lived in times that weren’t troubled? For most of my life Australia has suffered mediocre politicians and politics – with the odd brief exceptions – and it seems our current times are no different. Australia has never really managed to realise its potential. As a nation it seems to be two different countries going in opposite directions – one into the future and the other into the past. It looks as though we’ll be mired in this latest stretch of mediocrity for some time and the only consolation will be creativity, gardening and humour’, Beyond a joke – surviving troubled times.

Early onset forgetfulness – what day of the week is it?  

‘There used to be a time when a test for dementia amongst the elderly involved a series of questions. The first one was ‘who was the Prime Minister of Australia?’ After one too many leadership spills, this fairly quickly went out the window. The other question was ‘what day of the week is it?’ I must admit that increasingly I am losing the ability to answer this question correctly’, Early onset forgetfulness – what day of the week is it?

Holed up in the mountains
‘In a time of pandemic, if you can't be on a small island off another island, then being holed up in the mountains might just be the next best thing. While there are some daily things I miss - coffee sitting down in cafes, a quite drink or meal out – in many ways life in lockdown is not all that different to how I lived before. Perhaps I need to take a closer look at what I really miss’, Holed up in the mountains.

Noise-cancelling the modern world
‘For Christmas this year I received a novel present – a pair of some of the best noise-cancelling headphones in existence. They are extremely effective. Given the state of the world, I am happy not to hear any of the noise it produces’, Noise-cancelling the modern world.

Australia - 7-day weather forecast
‘A distraction from the heat, fire, and smoke that have become the new normal in Australia, Internet memes track the ongoing failure of our mediocre political masters. After a Christmas of bushfires, everything is black, particularly the humour’, Australia - 7-day weather forecast.

Feast of Stephen revisited
‘As Christmas seems to be speeding towards us once again – with all the hope it holds out for the survival of the embattled retail sector, it got me thinking. In ‘Good King Wencelaus’, that carol from my distant childhood, there is an intriguing line, ‘good King Wencelaus looked out, on the Feast of Stephen’. I thought, what is this feast, which happens to bear my name? When exactly is it? Well…it is Boxing Day. Now I do realise it, I am determined to celebrate it in the style it deserves’, Feast of Stephen.

Adjusting to reality #1 – peaks, troughs and snouts
‘It seems government allows just enough time to forget what it has done before it begins to repeat it. It would be easy to go along with popular prejudice and believe that the private sector is more efficient than the public sector. Unfortunately both are efficient and also hopeless in their own way. At least we get to vote about the broad outline of what the public sector does – and laugh at it. With the private sector, all we get is to laugh at it. Or cry’, Adjusting to reality #1 – peaks, troughs and snouts.

Internet memes – swirling around the virtual universe
‘Internet memes seem to appear and disappear on the web, digital visitors swirling around the virtual universe. Where they come from or who created them is hard to tell. There are no secrets or possessions on the Internet. Seeing some of these memes got me thinking. I thought perhaps I could produce my own memes and have some fun. Perhaps it’s the new future for the arts – social media postcards – but with humour and creativity’, Internet memes – swirling around the virtual universe.

Bring back the Romans

‘Our political system is having a lot of problems and lately I’ve been thinking that we could do a lot worse than bring back the Romans. Since they were around no-one has managed to do a good job of empire. The Americans had their moment but they seem to be making a real mess of it nowadays. Politically the Senate wouldn’t be much different. The Emperor Caligula made his horse a Senator and we’ve done better than that. So, no change there. No, on reflection it would be a good move. I think we should bring it on and the sooner the better. Now all we need to do is find some Romans and get the ball rolling’, Bring back the Romans.

Wide brown landing
‘Some days you realise suddenly that Canberra was deliberately located in the mountains. Perhaps it was fear of Russian invasion - imperial rather than communist. Perhaps it was to avoid overlap with the two warring imperial powers of the time - NSW and Victoria. Whatever the reason, Canberra sits well up on the top of Australia, on the long road up to the Snowy Mountains, where Australia finally reaches its peak. I've made two unsuccessful attempts to see the National Arboretum, finding the gates locked and no way in. Yesterday on a cold Canberra day I finally found it open, thanks to Canberra's annual festival of flowers, Floriade. I'd finally made a successful landing at the Arboretum. I was very impressed’, Wide brown landing.

Cures for the common cold
'Even in the heart of the modern world, down in the deep streets of contemporary urban life, folk medicine is still strong. Have you noticed when you mention you have a cold, how everyone within listening distance starts to list off the various fool-proof remedies which are certain to cure you, or at the very least make you feel human again', Cures for the common cold.

Articles in the series ‘The island to the North’

The island to the North – the islands to the North East
‘The awkward relationship between Tasmania and the island to the North is not the only clumsy relationship between islands in this part of the world. The history of the ties between the island to the North and the islands of the Pacific is even more troubled’, The island to the North – the islands to the North East.

The island to the North – turning the map upside down
‘Our geography teacher would turn the map upside down to make the point that we were conditioned to see Asia above Australia, implying that gravity was a factor in human migration patterns and to illustrate the Australian fear of the Yellow Peril, ready to pour down from Asia and inundate the almost empty island to the South’, The island to the North – turning the map upside down.

The island to the North – disappearing worlds
'Islands are easily overlooked – Tasmania is an island that periodically disappears off maps, sometimes there, sometimes not, at the edge of consciousness, at the end of space.' The island to the North – disappearing worlds

The island to the North – a nearby foreign country
‘Sitting by a roaring fire in a wintry pub in Tarraleah I found Tasmanians liked to call Australia "the island to the North". We are neighbours but sometimes I wonder if I am behind enemy lines’, The island to the North – a nearby foreign country.