Published on May 5th, 2014 | by Ann Rickard0
Quick, must shop
Easter is well over and we can all now get back to normality.
By that I mean not stampeding to the shopping centre, fighting with others over a parking spot and elbowing people in crammed supermarket aisles, all because we seem frightened of going without access to a supermarket for one whole day.
Have we become shopping centre dependent? Do we have a shopping centre problem?
“Anyone silly enough to go into the city on a Sunday felt as though they were entirely alone in the world.”
Just watching the crowds at my local shopping centre on the Thursday before Good Friday gave unwelcome insight into our psyche when it comes to the concern of “running out of things”.
Trolleys were piled so high with food and produce you could barely see the people pushing them.
Good Friday is almost the only day of the year – apart from Christmas Day – where everything closes, and my, don’t we hate it?
Judging by the frantic shopping and all that stockpiling, you’d be forgiven for thinking there had been announcement of an imminent nuclear catastrophe.
But I’m not making judgement here.
I am as bad as the next person when it comes to getting all panicky at the thought of all our shops closing for a day (especially the grog shop, love to know that one always has an open door welcome).
I stockpiled as much as you did the week before Good Friday, and then threw out a lot of food the following week. (Shameful.)
It doesn’t seem right that we’ve all become spoilt with seven-day a week shopping.
Not that I’d want to go back to the sad old days when Sundays were deadly quiet, unnaturally still and had an air of despondency about them.
I grew up in Melbourne in the ’60s when everything shut on the dot of 5pm on weekdays, at noon on Saturdays, and no one even opened the doors on Sundays.
Anyone silly enough to go into the city on a Sunday felt as though they were entirely alone in the world.
Doors, windows and shutters were all bolted, nary a person on the streets, public transport almost nil.
There was an awful forlorn feeling that the whole world had gone underground. (I shouldn’t be telling you this, but I go back as far as to remember when all the pubs shut at six o’clock in the evening.) (Yikes.)
Now, of course our cities and regional centres pulsate seven days a week, and that alive feeling is welcome.
Having said that, I hope we never become like some towns in America where the shops stay open 24 hours a day seven days a week every day of the year just in case someone can’t go without a tub of chocolate chip ice-cream at midnight (very likely) or runs out of peanut butter at one in the morning (most probably) and craves a carton of Sprite at five in the morning (God forbid).
So here’s to seven day a week shopping – even if we panic over one closed shopping day.