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?