How to survive a(nother) Covid Christmas
Sorry, can’t talk right now. Really busy. With what? Christmas, of course! Sure, it’s barely Hallowe’en, but since mid-September I’ve had a Word doc on the go entitled ‘Christmas Prep’. I’m considering a spreadsheet, that’s how serious this is.
That’s not all. I have been booking up Christmas activities left, right and centre. I’ve already secured seats for Operation Ouch Live!, The Play That Goes Wrong and a Harry Potter-themed escape room.
I email my husband saying things like, ‘Any fun ideas for Twixmas?’ even though I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what Twixmas is (it’s that grim bit between Christmas and New Year). He probably won’t reply and, in fact, I don’t even care if he does. Because this frantic activity is only a desperate attempt to exert some sort of control in a world that has felt totally out of control for, ooooh, years.
I would go as far as to say I was traumatised by Christmas 2020. My husband, two children and I spent it trapped in the wrong house by that pre-Christmas lockdown. There were no decorations, no gifts and we all had Covid. Luckily, there was enough loo roll.
I wouldn’t still be fussing about it if it hadn’t been for my children, who were seven and nine. I’m sure they’ve forgotten about it and, let’s get real, what children most want is their parents’ full attention and unlimited access to screens. But the disappointment for me, the falling short of my expectations for their festive experience, still stings.
This year was supposed to be easy, with the worst of Covid behind us. But then came whispers of shortages: of turkey, fuel, delivery drivers, foreign labour… And I freaked. From what I can see, I’m not the only one.
‘I am prepping hard,’ says Phoebe, 39, from Epsom. ‘The turkey is ordered, Guinness World Records and Trivial Pursuit purchased. I am adding one Christmas item to our weekly online grocery order so last-minute shortages can’t touch me.
I admit I have bought into the media hysteria. But after everything, it makes sense to get ahead. Mainly it’s because my daughter, who is seven, has had a terrible 18 months, missing out on all the things that matter to children. This Christmas is a way of bringing it back.’
Ruth, 36, from Durham, who has two children aged six and four, feels the same way. ‘The coverage about shortages has made me really anxious. I’ve already bought presents from Santa and normally I would scoff at those ordering gifts this early. I think the fuel shortages just added to my feeling of, “Right, that’s it, I need to get sorted.”’
Sarah, 38, from east London, also has two children, aged two and five, and she’s not messing about either. ‘I invited family a few weeks ago, have booked my Ocado slot and I’m thinking about my menu this morning while my toddler is watching Stick Man. I’m always quite organised but I’m extra freaked this year, as it feels like everything is going to pot. What if Ocado runs out of fuel? Not sure what I can do to guard against that.’
We are all part of a wider national picture of anxiety. The home crafting giant Hobbycraft, for example, has noted an unusually early surge in demand for Christmas products, with a spike as far back as April.
At the end of September this year, searches for ‘ceramic decorations’ were up 260 per cent, while searches for ‘baubles’ were up 70 per cent in August, compared to the period last year.
Aldi is currently selling 1,500 frozen turkey crowns a day, four times the usual rate for this time of year – and has seen Christmas pudding sales shoot up 45 per cent. At Waitrose, double the amount of people have already booked their Christmas delivery slot compared to this time last year.
The pressure was always going to be on for Christmas 2021, considering last year’s bonfire of festive dreams, but it’s worse now we can’t be sure how much of what will be available and when. And if we’ve learnt anything, it’s that other people can’t be trusted not to stockpile and panic-buy. It’s all behaviour that disrupts the just-in-time delivery systems most consumer businesses use, which only function if everyone stays calm. Ha!
The temptation to flee this perfect storm is huge – my fantasies include empty pristine beaches – but recalling the hassle of travel in the summer, I’m not sure that’s the answer. So how bad will a UK Christmas really be? No one from Ocado, Amazon Fresh, Smyths Toys or John Lewis will talk to me about it, which doesn’t fill me with confidence.
‘The shortage of butchers is a big issue,’ confirms Paul Grout, who owns independent chain of butchers Meat. ‘It’s very bad news for supermarkets, who rely on big teams to get the job done. But even I haven’t had a single application for a butcher position in six months. I use small suppliers, so I’m not worried about having enough turkeys; the problem is having enough butchers in store.’
The British Meat Processors Association reckons the industry is short about 15,000 workers, who usually arrive on working visas from Europe on a seasonal basis, but those visas have increased in price and are more difficult to get. So suppliers haven’t been able to start on labour-intensive items, such as pigs in blankets. And fewer turkeys were hatched earlier in the year, anticipating there wouldn’t be the labour force to process them.
The UK is also short of 100,000 lorry drivers. During Covid, 55,000 drivers retired and, as testing centres were shut, a huge backlog of applications built up. That means consignments of books, toys, clothes and bicycles all stuck at ports.
‘We have been very worried about all of it,’ says my senior source in UK food supply. ‘Things depend on whether the Home Office makes it easier to get foreign labour back into the country in time.’ There will, he adds, ‘be some things unavailable. But people need to get a grip and realise they can’t always have exactly what they want, all the time.’
Perhaps he is right. We now live in a world where we can dial up a burger straight to our door in 10 minutes. Post-war, and certainly since the 1980s, we have had so much access to such a variety of consumer goods, at all times, that maybe our expectations have got a bit out of control.
So, despite my spreadsheets, I’m determined to be sensible. There may be less choice, but there won’t be nothing at all. And so the word isn’t ‘panic’, it’s ‘prepare’. The privations of last year mean I feel under pressure to perform, but it’s also reset a few things. Just being alive and well in my own home with gifts that aren’t toilet roll and lateral flow tests will feel like a five-star experience.
And I don’t really like turkey, anyway.