The Book of Strange New Things(72)
On entering his USIC apartment, he’d stripped off his clothes, determined to shower before he tackled anything else. These last couple of weeks, working with the Oasans and sleeping out in the open, he’d become inured to sweat and dust, but his journey back to base in the air-conditioned vehicle had awakened his awareness of the muck that clung to him. It was a feeling he remembered well from his homeless years: being invited into somebody’s immaculate home and perching on the edge of their pale velour sofa, self-conscious about tainting it with his grimy arse. So, as soon as he stepped into his apartment, he decided that while the Shoot was warming up, doing its routine checks of its electronic innards, he could have a quick wash. Unexpectedly, however, Beatrice’s messages loaded in at once. Their sudden arrival was a potent presence in the room, forcing him to sit down, dirty as he was.
We are in big trouble, Bea said. I don’t want to worry you when you’re so far away and there’s nothing you can do. But things are falling apart fast. I don’t mean you and me of course darling. I mean things in general, the whole country (probably). In our local supermarket there are apology stickers on most of the shelves, empty spaces everywhere. Yesterday there was no fresh milk and no fresh bread. Today, all the UHT milk, flavoured milk, condensed milk, even coffee whitener has gone, likewise all the muffins, bagels, scones, chapattis, etc etc. I overheard two people in the checkout queue having a testy discussion about how many cartons of custard one person should be allowed to buy. The term ‘moral responsibility’ was used.
The news says that the supply problems are due to chaos on the motor-ways because of the earthquake in Bedworth a few days back. That makes a kind of sense, judging by the footage. (You know the way the top of a cake bursts open when it’s risen dramatically in the oven? – well, a long stretch of the M6 looks like that.) Of course the other roads are jammed solid now, trying to accommodate the diverted traffic.
But on the other hand, you would think there must be lots of bakeries and dairies located south of the quake site. I mean, surely we’re not dependent on a truck coming down the M6 all the way from Birmingham to bring us a loaf of bread! I suspect what we’re seeing here is sheer inflexibility in the way supermarkets operate; I bet they just aren’t equipped to negotiate with a different bunch of suppliers at such short notice. If the market was allowed to respond more organically (no pun intended) to an event like this, I’m sure that bakeries and dairies in Southampton or wherever would be delighted to step into the breach.
Anyway, the Bedworth quake is not the full story, regardless of what the news says. Food supplies have been erratic for ages. And the weather just gets weirder and weirder. We’ve had sunshine and mild conditions here (the carpets have finally dried out, thank goodness) but there have been freak hailstorms in other places, so bad that a couple of people have been killed. Killed by hailstones!
It’s been a good week for the news networks, I must say. The footage of the quake, the hailstorms and – stand by, folks! – a spectacular riot in central London. It started as a peaceful protest against the military action in China, and ended with cars being set alight, mass brawling, baton charges, the whole shebang. Even the cleaning up afterwards made for good pictures: there was fake blood (red paint) dripping off the stone lions in Trafalgar Square and real blood splattered on the ground. The cameramen must have been peeing themselves with delight. Sorry to sound cynical but the media gets so energised by this sort of thing. Nobody ever seems sad about it, there’s no moral dimension, it’s just the latest action-packed event. And while these photogenic calamities are flashed past, ordinary people get on with their lives, just doing their best to come to terms with everyday unhappiness.
Anyway, I shouldn’t try so hard to understand the Big Picture. Only God understands that, and He’s in control. I have my life to lead, work to go to. It’s early morning here, beautiful light, chilly, with Joshua perched on top of the filing cabinet snoozing in a sunbeam. My shift doesn’t start till 2.30, so I’m going to do some chores and cook tonight’s dinner so that when I come home from work I can just tuck in, instead of eating peanut butter on toast like I usually do. I should eat some breakfast now to boost my energy but there’s nothing in the house I fancy. The plight of a cereal addict in withdrawal! I’m sipping stale jasmine tea (left over from when we had Ludmila staying with us) because normal tea without milk tastes wrong to me. Too much compromise!
OK, back again. (I just went to the front door to pick up the mail.) Nice postcard from some people in Hastings thanking us for our kindness – Can’t think what kindness they’re referring to, but they invite us to visit them. Could be difficult for you right now! Also a letter from Sheila Frame. Remember her? She’s the mother of Rachel and Billy, the kids who made our Noah’s Ark wall-hanging/collage. Rachel is 12 now and ‘doing OK’ says Sheila (whatever ‘OK’ means) and Billy is 14 and seriously depressed. That’s why Sheila is writing to us. Her letter doesn’t make much sense, she must have written it when she was stressed out. She keeps mentioning ‘the snow leopard’, assuming we must know all about ‘the snow leopard’. I’ve tried to phone but she’s at work, and by the time I get home tonight it’ll be 11.30 at least. I might try to phone from the ward during my meal break.
Enough about my routine & uneventful life without my dear husband. Please tell me what’s been happening with you. I wish I could see your face. I don’t understand why the technology that allows us to communicate with each other like this can’t stretch to sending a few pictures as well! But I suppose that’s being greedy. It’s miraculous enough that we can read each other’s words at such a mind-boggling distance. Assuming you can still read them, of course . . . Please write soon to let me know you’re all right.