One side effect of the Coronavirus crisis is that it has brought loo roll back into the headlines and, IMHO, that is no bad thing.

I had made four abortive attempts to find loo roll at my local supermarket before I struck pay dirt.  Four attempts, only to find the shelves stripped bare by panic buying, before I spotted the object of my quest.

At first, I could scarcely believe my eyes––so accustomed had I become to disappointment––but my vision was not deceiving me.  A four-pack of toilet paper, unloved, unclaimed, available for instant purchase.

Still, I hesitated.  Was it really toilet paper?  Not kitchen roll, perhaps, cleverly dressed up to fool me?  A mirage; my eyes only seeing what they wanted to see.  No, surely there was no mistake.

I reached out and took the pack of toilet rolls from the shelf; clutched it possessively to my breast; felt its inherent softness pressed against my body.  I had missed this gentle touch.  Forgotten this unresisting embrace.  I looked about me, suddenly feeling guilty.  Had anyone spotted this act of tender reunion?  Could I carry off my bounty unchallenged?  Unobserved?  I felt a qualm of anxiety regarding my previously unexamined belief in my right to possession.  My loo roll and I: could we truly live in innocent exclusivity?  In these unprecedented times.

Should I not forsake my four-pack for a worthier suitor?  Would it not be nobler…  Oh, Jezebel, it is kitchen roll, after all.

© Simon Turner-Tree

Simon Turner-Tree should get out more.  Or less?