Originally published by The Clifton Courier, January 20, 2020

The other day I went grocery shopping and it occurred to me that someone might judge me based on what I had in my trolley. 

To be clear, when I say “the other day” I mean “about an hour after the Premier announced a three-day lockdown for Greater Brisbane”. 

I had the day off and, because one of the four reasons for leaving the house didn’t include going out for a few cheeky beers for my birthday, I decided I may as well duck down to the shops for some essential supplies.

Of course, everyone else had the same idea. 

By the time I got to the supermarket, a long line had formed at the checkouts, snaking its way along the inside of the store. But it was a surprisingly nice time.  Shoppers were making lots of jokes while they waited in line and people seemed to be going out of their way to be polite. It seems we were all working towards the same collective goal – avoiding supermarket brawls over toilet paper. 

And that’s a good thing too, because some fellow with a bulky camera had ventured into the store talking photos for The Media. 

It made me consider what kind of impression someone might get of me if they saw my picture. 

Luckily, I had chosen to wear the coolest shirt I own – a sloppy, long-sleeve shirt with featuring a scene from that episode of The Simpsons where Bart gets a fake driver’s licence and drives to Knoxville. 

I was wearing a facemask, which not only made me compliant with health advice, but it covered any possible flecks of food stuck in my teeth. 

That would suggest I am fashionable, conscious of my impact on the community and that my teeth were clean. 

But what about the contents of my trolley? 

I know someone who once saw a bloke at the checkout with a few boxes each of gravy powder and KY jelly in his basket. Nothing else. It’s a combination that would raise eyebrows at any time. And you can make certain assumptions based on those two consumer choices. But as this sighting was on Valentine’s Day, that escalates things.

In a similar sense, given the situation that was unfolding, the choices I made were more significant and, therefore, more telling than a casual shop.

I took a snap of what I had loaded into the cart for reference and now I can go back to analyse said contents. Some of my purchases – like the wanky flour and an emergency roll of choc-backed Digestives – were buried in the middle and were secret. Only the items on the outside of the grocery mound were visible and thus open to judgement. Here’s my explanation for my choices:

Two bags of spinach: I have spinach for breakfast most mornings and that stuff wilts down to practically nothing. So while two bags might appear excessive, it was very much in line with my needs. 

A box of “proper strong” teabags: Look, I did already have half a box of teabags, but given I was going to be spending a full day at home, it was possible I may exhaust my supplies. And, look, it was a grey and drizzly day – reinforcements were necessary.   

Two bunches of flowers: It was my birthday and, at that point, the climax of Birthday Week. Flowers were a necessity. (I’ve since made the executive decision to extend Birthday Week to Birthday Fortnight).

Chicken goujons: These are essentially chicken nuggets, but goujon,  with its French origins, sounds fancier. I don’t think I need to explain the presence of this in my trolley. 

Potatoes: Because I don’t want to be longer than 40 minutes away from the perfect roasted potato.

Two types of butter: Even for me this seems a bit much. But one was for baking with. The other was for smearing on this rich, rummy fruitcake a real sweetheart of a friend gifted me. 

Two cake tins: I decided I was going to spend the day making an extremely extra cake, the recipe of which called for two cake tins. I’d just moved and didn’t have any baking tins to my name. 

Easter eggs: Because I’m not waiting for the onset of Lent to start consuming oval-shaped confectionary. I’m an anarchist like that.

A jar of goats cheese: It’s just good stuff. It’s not an unhealthy compulsion or anything. I could stop eating it if I wanted to, but I jut don’t want to. OK?!

Greek yoghurt: It’s just so versatile and feels healthier to binge on than ice cream.

Thickened cream: Because maybe it’s time to have another crack at making my own butter…