When it comes to food shortages at Christmas, we all need to get a grip

Up and down the country, the nation is dividing into those who are determined to have everything they need for a spectacular family Christmas, and those of us who are far too chaotic to think that far ahead and will therefore be taking take pot luck with food supplies nearer the time.

Let’s face it – not everyone has one of those massive chest freezers; mine is only big enough for fish fingers and peas and ice cream.

Having already weathered the great fuel shortages of October 2021, the threat of empty supermarket shelves come December is no surprise to the 48 per cent of the population who never wanted to leave the EU in the first place.

My local supermarket has been showing gaping holes in surprising places for months; last week, bin liners were in short supply, salad leaves have been hit and miss and the “nice” fish pies have been hard to come by since September. These days I no longer take a list with me, it’s pointless: you just have to buy what’s available.

Meanwhile, on touring days, I’m now familiar now with the limited sandwich choice in M&S food halls up and down the motorway and if I were on the board at Marks’s, I’d have a long think about the hoisin duck wrap. This is obviously everyone’s least favourite option, considering that it’s the only one that is always available. Which reminds me – I haven’t seen one of their fancy prawn numbers for ages now.

When I’ve remarked on shelf shortages on social media, I’ve had people immediately snipe back with accusations of “making this nonsense up”. When I have then posted photos of said empty shelves as proof, I’ve been accused of sparking panic shopping. You really can’t win with the Brexiteers.

This, despite the absolute fact that pigs are being slaughtered, not for the consumption of their delicious meat (sorry, but Nigella’s not the only one who can’t hack a vegan diet), but because there are labour shortages at abattoirs leading to a backlog of healthy pigs being culled on farms.

These pigs cannot enter the human food chain because they haven’t been properly killed in the slaughterhouse, and therefore cannot be approved for consumption. What a tragic waste – good luck, everyone, with your pigs in blankets.

What surprises me most about the patchiness of food on our supermarket shelves is how accepting the general public is. I haven’t seen anyone even questioning the situation; most shoppers are shrugging their shoulders, having a bit of a mutter and then making do with whatever is available.

I’m not sure this is the old fashioned British blitz spirit coming to the fore, or whether Covid has tired us out and forced us to face up to the fact that there are some things in the world that we haven’t a hope in hell of controlling.

As far as I can see, no one is shaking their fists, demanding to “see the manager” or threatening to take their business elsewhere. People are simply rethinking supper plans and buying mince when there’s no chicken.

In some respects, maybe this new tolerance is something to be celebrated? We really did get our knickers in a terrible twist pre-Covid about things that turned out to be completely inconsequential – perhaps the virus has finally put what really matters into perspective?

As I travel around the country with my stand-up show, my tour manager and I occasionally treat ourselves to what we both consider a “posh hotel”; something a bit boutique, with all those fancy extras that constitute a nice treat.

Only, very few hotels are feeling particularly special right now. Many of them feel jaded and ever so slightly down at heel. Walls are scuffed, paint is chipped and many of them seem stuck in an early new millennium time warp.

I’m disappointed, but I don’t say anything (unless the place is filthy, in which case I kick off). I think we all know that after the last 18 months, the hospitality industry is trying to get off its knees; so for me to start bitching about room snacks isn’t going to help anyone.

Everything feels drabber than it used to – but rather than beefing on about it, we all seem to have lowered our expectations. Maybe it’s because many of us have some kind of mild version of survivor’s guilt?

The world has been through a pandemic, and yet here we are: getting on with life, trying to make the best of it. There has been so much loss, so much heartache – so what if I can’t get those special steaks today? I can wait. It’s not really such a big deal.

So, come the week before Xmas and there’s not a turkey or a sausage in sight (unlike a couple of years ago, when I’d have been having hysterics in the aisles), I will be furious, yes – because this was an avoidable disaster – but while this bloody virus continues to rage, I’ll chuck something else in the trolley and get on with it. I prefer fish fingers to turkey, in any case.