A Day in the Life : Grocery Shopping Adventure
Hello Home-dwellers!
It's a lazy, overcast Sunday here in Ireland, especially after new "lockdown" rules were officially put in place as of 12:00 AM 27 March. What it entails for us is that no one may leave the house over the next 2 weeks (within a 2 km radius) except for the following reasons :
- For essential workers
- Food shopping
- Medical appointments/pick up medical products
- Brief personal exercise, obeying 2 meter distancing restrictions, and within a 2km radius of house
- Farming : for food production or care of animals
- Vital family reasons (no social visits)
- Further non-essential shops will be closed and all community centres (educational and otherwise)
- Non-essential surgeries, procedures, and visits will be postponed
- All visits to hospitals, resident facilities, and prisons stop (except under special compassionate circumstances)
- Travel to offshore islands restricted to the residents of those islands
- Pharmacists can dispense medicine outside period of validity, with a previous prescription, and using discretion
- All public transport restricted to essential workers
- Shielding or cocooning for over 70s or vulnerable people (I am unsure what "shielding" or "cocooning" means, but I think it means these people aren't allowed to leave their house)
Since Neva sprained her ankle and needed more children's strength Nurofen (IBUProfen), the chickens' and dog's food was getting low, and we were needing some food resupplies, we matched 3 of the necessary reasons to leave the house (highlighted above in red). So I had to don the helmet, mask, gloves, and trailer to suit up for *gasp GOING OUT (bum bum buuuum!!).
I was hoping that with (theoretically) less cars on the road, it would feel much safer cycling. It started out well, with me cycling by the sea front to see people abiding by the 2 metre distancing rules (and not many people at that), as well as a female Garda patrolling the cycle path. She looked at me and smirked; probably because I looked absolutely ridiculous being the physical embodiment of the Wicked Witch of the West and Immortan Joe from Mad Max on a bicycle...pulling a yellow trailer.
But once I hit the main road, it was filled with cars. People were walking very close to me on their sidewalk while I'm in the bike lane, and I'm crossing my fingers in my head hoping they don't sneeze on me. My mask seems to be working, because I'm gasping for breath with the mask noticeably deflating and inflating on my now sweaty face, as I huff and puff to cycle up the large hill for which the animal shop is neatly perched atop. No one was wearing masks or gloves; there was 3 of them in there, chatting away informally. I didn't know if their ease should put me at ease, but I was awfully grateful that they were open.
With my furthest destination out of the way, and the trailer now 40 kg heavier, I was on to my next stop : the small Asian market to refill on bulk rice and random Japanese, Chinese, and Thai food ingredients. I parked my (now very cumbersome) bike next to the shop and was monitoring the situation. There were ladies on either side of the cash register, 2 meters apart, and the owner had his mask and gloves on. I couldn't enter through the small corridor without breaking distancing rules, so I just stood back and waited. I noticed a queue forming behind me 2 metres back. No words exchanged, just waiting and watching silently and at a distance.
Next stop, the chemist (aka 'pharmacy' to my American friends). Neva sprained her ankle earlier in the week and we luckily had crutches and ankle braces laying around from when I had badly sprained my ankle two summers prior. She had gone through the kids anti inflammatories we had and needed a refill.
I walked my bike up to the door that was only open about 2 feet wide. It could not accommodate the brim on my helmet so I had to awkwardly tilt of my neck and side-step inside. Just on the other side of the door was a square to stand in and a large plastic barrier with a woman on the other side and a slot between us. This was typical for the chemists in Ireland now. They collect your items for you, hand them through a little hole, and tap your card to pay. I asked for the medicine as well as some isopropyl alcohol. They said they haven't been able to get any. Having called 6 pharmacists and heard the same story, I was inclined to believe her. The only hand sanitizer that was available was the travel size, about 2 ounces. One last attempt for a non caustic cleaning agent, I asked for hydrogen peroxide. I was shocked when she produced a bottle, as the last time I called the chemists no one had any available. Success! It's like I was able to check off a small win on the worst game of scavenger hunt ever : find alternatives for necessary cleaning and sanitation products. Definitely a Dystopian Present moment!
"Almost done. One more stop and then I can go home. It hasn't been so bad; the only queue was 3 people at the Asian store and it was pretty chill. Uh oh..." I was confused as I went to park my bike at the local Tesco. People walking awkwardly everywhere trying to avoid everyone else. Heads down, trolleys gripped firmly, trying to find out where to go. I attempt to enter at my normal entrance and am stopped by a store employee, guarding the door that's only opened 2 feet wide. He says it's an exit only and points to the queue which is wrapped around half the building. It looks longer than it is since people are distanced 2 metres apart. Some people have gloves, some people have masks, some people have both (that's me!), and most people have nothing. No cheery chatting here, there's a grimness in the air, the parking lot is filled. I hear clanking nearby and look over; a woman has a large trolley half filled with clanking alcohol bottles on the bottom, and half filled with massive chocolate Easter eggs on top. I ponder for a minute what her daily life is like, but am shaken from my thoughts as the Tesco worker tells me to step to the next 2 metre line and welcomes me in.
The store looks like a hazardous zebra. Two metres distancing-line yellow and black stickers are on the floor reminding us all where to stand. I am a solitary bag holder in a sea of carts; akin to a cyclist next to cars. I cautiously weave through the crowd, trying my best to maintain proper distance and shop purposefully, as if on the game show "Supermarket Sweep". Thank goodness I don't have a cart to slow me down. Bagged groceries are done, now just need to get the dog food and get out. Two weeks worth of food should do her, plus I can't carry much more, and I'm not sure if the trailer can take much more either considering it's likely now over 50kgs. Heading for the till, I pass shelves of toilet paper and soap which have signs limiting people to buy no more than 3 of each maximum. After doing a quick inventory in my head, I grabbed a quick toilet roll pack and 2 packs of soap. I self-check out and leave the store past the man who was guarding the exit earlier. With two 6-packs of dog food in one hand, a bag of groceries in the other, and a toilet paper pack wedged under my arm I am ready to go home...after I shove the trailer with all this extra stuff.
The last hurdle, sterilization. The process is faster with two people, I'm glad Christian is there. I open up anything that can be opened up that's clean on the inside and transfer them to a clean receptacle Christian is holding. We have always saved and stocked food safe reusable bags, and are quickly using them up. Large fermenting jars and tupperware are also being used for things like noodles that are surrounded in only cardboard and cannot be washed, or oatmeal in a paper bag. Since we don't have any isopropyl alcohol available to us, vinegar solutions don't dissolve the lipid membrane of the virus, and bleach solutions left from the previous home owners are too caustic, we are having to use soap and water for everything, unless we are able to repackage. Only an hour later after arriving at my door am I able to relax. I throw all of the clothes I had on in the washing machine, wipe off my helmet, and take a hot shower. Thank goodness we only have to do this once every week or two. It's just another day in the life of the Dystopian Present.
Next order of business, argue with Aer Lingus to refund us for our flights to the United States meant to leave 29 March at 4:10pm, but that's another story.
It's a lazy, overcast Sunday here in Ireland, especially after new "lockdown" rules were officially put in place as of 12:00 AM 27 March. What it entails for us is that no one may leave the house over the next 2 weeks (within a 2 km radius) except for the following reasons :
 |
| Picture from : News sky |
- For essential workers
- Food shopping
- Medical appointments/pick up medical products
- Brief personal exercise, obeying 2 meter distancing restrictions, and within a 2km radius of house
- Farming : for food production or care of animals
- Vital family reasons (no social visits)
- Further non-essential shops will be closed and all community centres (educational and otherwise)
- Non-essential surgeries, procedures, and visits will be postponed
- All visits to hospitals, resident facilities, and prisons stop (except under special compassionate circumstances)
- Travel to offshore islands restricted to the residents of those islands
- Pharmacists can dispense medicine outside period of validity, with a previous prescription, and using discretion
- All public transport restricted to essential workers
- Shielding or cocooning for over 70s or vulnerable people (I am unsure what "shielding" or "cocooning" means, but I think it means these people aren't allowed to leave their house)
 |
| Scene from Cocoon movie : Is this what they mean my cocooning? |
Since Neva sprained her ankle and needed more children's strength Nurofen (IBUProfen), the chickens' and dog's food was getting low, and we were needing some food resupplies, we matched 3 of the necessary reasons to leave the house (highlighted above in red). So I had to don the helmet, mask, gloves, and trailer to suit up for *gasp GOING OUT (bum bum buuuum!!).
I was hoping that with (theoretically) less cars on the road, it would feel much safer cycling. It started out well, with me cycling by the sea front to see people abiding by the 2 metre distancing rules (and not many people at that), as well as a female Garda patrolling the cycle path. She looked at me and smirked; probably because I looked absolutely ridiculous being the physical embodiment of the Wicked Witch of the West and Immortan Joe from Mad Max on a bicycle...pulling a yellow trailer.
 |
| Imagine this... |
 |
| Plus this... |
 |
| Plus this |
But once I hit the main road, it was filled with cars. People were walking very close to me on their sidewalk while I'm in the bike lane, and I'm crossing my fingers in my head hoping they don't sneeze on me. My mask seems to be working, because I'm gasping for breath with the mask noticeably deflating and inflating on my now sweaty face, as I huff and puff to cycle up the large hill for which the animal shop is neatly perched atop. No one was wearing masks or gloves; there was 3 of them in there, chatting away informally. I didn't know if their ease should put me at ease, but I was awfully grateful that they were open.
 |
| One bag of pellets and one bag of grain = 40kgs of food! |
With my furthest destination out of the way, and the trailer now 40 kg heavier, I was on to my next stop : the small Asian market to refill on bulk rice and random Japanese, Chinese, and Thai food ingredients. I parked my (now very cumbersome) bike next to the shop and was monitoring the situation. There were ladies on either side of the cash register, 2 meters apart, and the owner had his mask and gloves on. I couldn't enter through the small corridor without breaking distancing rules, so I just stood back and waited. I noticed a queue forming behind me 2 metres back. No words exchanged, just waiting and watching silently and at a distance.
Next stop, the chemist (aka 'pharmacy' to my American friends). Neva sprained her ankle earlier in the week and we luckily had crutches and ankle braces laying around from when I had badly sprained my ankle two summers prior. She had gone through the kids anti inflammatories we had and needed a refill.
 |
| Neva's dangerous with crutches! We need her healed ASAP! |
I walked my bike up to the door that was only open about 2 feet wide. It could not accommodate the brim on my helmet so I had to awkwardly tilt of my neck and side-step inside. Just on the other side of the door was a square to stand in and a large plastic barrier with a woman on the other side and a slot between us. This was typical for the chemists in Ireland now. They collect your items for you, hand them through a little hole, and tap your card to pay. I asked for the medicine as well as some isopropyl alcohol. They said they haven't been able to get any. Having called 6 pharmacists and heard the same story, I was inclined to believe her. The only hand sanitizer that was available was the travel size, about 2 ounces. One last attempt for a non caustic cleaning agent, I asked for hydrogen peroxide. I was shocked when she produced a bottle, as the last time I called the chemists no one had any available. Success! It's like I was able to check off a small win on the worst game of scavenger hunt ever : find alternatives for necessary cleaning and sanitation products. Definitely a Dystopian Present moment!
| Here's a Belfast example (photo : Belfast Telegraph). I am reticent to take out my phone while running grocery errands so not many photos from this trip. |
"Almost done. One more stop and then I can go home. It hasn't been so bad; the only queue was 3 people at the Asian store and it was pretty chill. Uh oh..." I was confused as I went to park my bike at the local Tesco. People walking awkwardly everywhere trying to avoid everyone else. Heads down, trolleys gripped firmly, trying to find out where to go. I attempt to enter at my normal entrance and am stopped by a store employee, guarding the door that's only opened 2 feet wide. He says it's an exit only and points to the queue which is wrapped around half the building. It looks longer than it is since people are distanced 2 metres apart. Some people have gloves, some people have masks, some people have both (that's me!), and most people have nothing. No cheery chatting here, there's a grimness in the air, the parking lot is filled. I hear clanking nearby and look over; a woman has a large trolley half filled with clanking alcohol bottles on the bottom, and half filled with massive chocolate Easter eggs on top. I ponder for a minute what her daily life is like, but am shaken from my thoughts as the Tesco worker tells me to step to the next 2 metre line and welcomes me in.
 |
| This was the line as I was leaving Tesco; since I was heading home, I was able to snap a shot of the long line. |
The store looks like a hazardous zebra. Two metres distancing-line yellow and black stickers are on the floor reminding us all where to stand. I am a solitary bag holder in a sea of carts; akin to a cyclist next to cars. I cautiously weave through the crowd, trying my best to maintain proper distance and shop purposefully, as if on the game show "Supermarket Sweep". Thank goodness I don't have a cart to slow me down. Bagged groceries are done, now just need to get the dog food and get out. Two weeks worth of food should do her, plus I can't carry much more, and I'm not sure if the trailer can take much more either considering it's likely now over 50kgs. Heading for the till, I pass shelves of toilet paper and soap which have signs limiting people to buy no more than 3 of each maximum. After doing a quick inventory in my head, I grabbed a quick toilet roll pack and 2 packs of soap. I self-check out and leave the store past the man who was guarding the exit earlier. With two 6-packs of dog food in one hand, a bag of groceries in the other, and a toilet paper pack wedged under my arm I am ready to go home...after I shove the trailer with all this extra stuff.
 |
| Photo : Daily Mail |
The last hurdle, sterilization. The process is faster with two people, I'm glad Christian is there. I open up anything that can be opened up that's clean on the inside and transfer them to a clean receptacle Christian is holding. We have always saved and stocked food safe reusable bags, and are quickly using them up. Large fermenting jars and tupperware are also being used for things like noodles that are surrounded in only cardboard and cannot be washed, or oatmeal in a paper bag. Since we don't have any isopropyl alcohol available to us, vinegar solutions don't dissolve the lipid membrane of the virus, and bleach solutions left from the previous home owners are too caustic, we are having to use soap and water for everything, unless we are able to repackage. Only an hour later after arriving at my door am I able to relax. I throw all of the clothes I had on in the washing machine, wipe off my helmet, and take a hot shower. Thank goodness we only have to do this once every week or two. It's just another day in the life of the Dystopian Present.
 |
| Me washing groceries |
 |
| Successfully washed or transferred groceries |
Next order of business, argue with Aer Lingus to refund us for our flights to the United States meant to leave 29 March at 4:10pm, but that's another story.
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