Will it be this winter? Civil unrest? Will this be the year that, armed only with billhooks, we have to defend our village and its meagre resources from the ravenous zombie hordes?
I haven’t got much to defend – a few winter squash which, like the Mayan farmers, I have already hoarded for months, waiting for winter really to bite.
The relapse into barbarism hasn’t happened yet, and the forces of law and order still exist – or do they? Although they infest the motorway, I haven’t seen a policeman in a Wiltshire town in years. Two members of the Wiltshire force are usually tied up with ‘domestic’ incidents in Melksham or Trowbridge – traditional centres of unrest.
How long could we live off the land? I’m not even sure my air rifle works any more. I used to get the odd stray pheasant that had the temerity to wander into my grounds – but then I checked with a Game Conservancy spokesperson, who told me that although not illegal it was considered ‘unsportsmanlike’ to take a trespassing pheasant for the pot. Etiquette could be forgotten in an emergency, but the telescopic sights have been dented – so I have to aim above the target. The likely hit rate would not be sufficient to feed this family.
As for the rabbit, there is an excellent recipe from Constance Spry which uses English ingredients – green lentils, onions and celery – and the bit I like most is her recommendation that it be served on a base of fried bread. I could legitimately break the ultimate taboo by indulgence in what Mary calls ‘cardiac cuisine’.
We have a surplus of dried food hoarded during lockdowns, some of it now past its sell-by date – I had a plan to purchase a chest freezer. This was shot down by Mrs Wood, who barked, ‘What happens when there’s a power cut?’
We know a highly intelligent local historian who has been ‘prepping’ for civil unrest since Brexit. Once you get into the prepping mindset, I can see it could take you over in a nerdish sort of way.
Even without civil unrest, nationwide anxiety has been spiked by the news that the only foodstuffs going down in price are minced beef, orange juice, sugar and rice, while prices for pasta and olive oil are going through the roof. At what point did our national cuisine get hijacked by that of another European country? You never hear about Italians worrying about price rises for crumpets or Cornish pasties. Yet pasta, pizza and panini now trump eel pie, potted shrimps and Lancashire hotpot in our newly globalised diets.
Here in Wiltshire, Iron Age villagers kept and ate cattle, sheep, goats, pigs and horses. At the risk of causing offence, it seems illogical that those who are prepared to eat ostrich, kangaroo or Canadian lobsters would never be able to bring themselves to eat horse. Perhaps when the civil unrest comes, horse will be sold euphemistically as Pauper’s Steak.
In the Iron Age, the land around the villages was divided into small, rectangular fields in which wheat, barley and oats were grown. Archaeologists surmise that the ground grain was made into a kind of porridge in the shape of flat cakes baked on hot stones. The effort required to grind the meal by hand would ensure that obesity was not a problem.
Fast-forward to 2022 and it is the ubiquity of foreign foodstuffs that has literally spoilt our Anglo-Saxon palates. Waitrose is partly to blame, but we customers should shoulder some of that blame in choosing to shop there.
Last night, Mary returned from the shops with a long face: ‘I’m sorry – they didn’t have Époisses, but the cheesemonger suggested this creamy Taleggio would be a decent substitute.’
I am among those Britons (two-thirds of us) currently losing the battle of the bulge. But as I ate this unsatisfactory Taleggio, I had an epiphany for a foolproof diet:
Buy only things you don’t like. Then you won’t eat too much.
In future, I will shop for pig’s trotters, tripe, tongue and tapioca, Love Hearts, Refreshers, Liquorice Allsorts and Fox’s Glacier Mints. And, for those whose palates have been corrupted to like sugar-rich Heinz tomato soup, try Co-op’s own-brand ‘healthy’ tomato and basil soup. You will find it virtually inedible.
Nature writer Richard Jefferies quotes a gamekeeper who had his own theories on staying healthy:
‘It’s indoors, sir, that kills half the people – and next to that taking too much drink and vitals … People stuffs theirselves.’
That’s it! When I set out on my next sustainable shopping trip, I will bypass Waitrose and walk – not drive – to the Co-op, where I will fill a rucksack with food I consider inedible.
