As the dreaded coronavirus continues to crap all over the daily lives of most, I find myself caught in the middle of a tryptych of troubles, or a triple trinity of trauma, to be transcribed truthfully in this most trenchant transliteration of the trivial.
I know I shouldn’t make light of the situation now gripping the world, but I have real problems of my own, and the world needs to listen.
Undercrackers. Tea bags. Chamois Cream.
I’m willing to bet that the three have not appeared together before in any form, anywhere on the Internet, unless there’s a *ahem* specialist website catering for such a combination somewhere, probably based in Brighton or Miami or Melton Mowbray or Vladivostok.
The kybosh has been well and truly put on one’s annual return to the Motherland, so there are consequences. Severe consequence in my little world. You see, I tend to manage quite well. I went to a military school and I worked in a major financial institution; there is little room in my life for winging-it. I like to have things in order, and I like to know what I have got, where it is, how long it will last. I have a mental list to which I add little notes. Thus:
I’ve not refreshed my underwear stash for a couple of years. Holes have begun to appear, and several pairs are decidedly threadbare. I will rectify this on my return to Marks and Spencers (or should that be Your M&S, these days?). Simple.
I have a finite stash of Sainsbury’s Red Label tea bags. I had enough to get me through until the middle of June. Perfect. I’ll call in at JS in Oswestry and purchase the requisite seventeen boxes of 240 bags in early August, ready for our return.
That tub of Assos Chamois cream is most certainly nearing its final smears. No problem, I’ll grab a tub when I order my customary cycling supplies from Wiggle, Chainreaction or Ribble. As ever, they’ll be awaiting my return to Blighty, along with the bargain Campagnolo Record hubs I ordered a couple of months ago.
Except, I ain’t going nowhere any time soon.
Remaining undercrackers will have to be forced to last, or, heaven forbid, repaired. Tea will have to be rationed. Surely it can’t have been this bad during the war. Undercarriage will shortly have to endure four-hour rides without the soothing caress of Assos of Switzerland’s finest. Wow! 21st Century, First World problems. I’m going to be seeking therapy before much longer.
These are the real issues. Question Time, what say you?
2020 - A Year of Perfect Vision 
If you need a care package sending over you just have to say 😉
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