There is a long and proud history of stockpiling in the wider Edge Dynasty.

My mother didn’t have an Apocalypse Cupboard, exactly, but she did have a Just-In-Case cupboard.

We were never sure what SORT of emergency she was preparing for, but I distinctly remember my father strongly objecting to discovering over 20 tins of tomatoes and probably at least the same number of bottles of Cif cream cleaner (then Jif), in their utility room.

He wondered, at some volume, whether she was expecting to have to feed (and possibly clean) the entire FREAKING Russion Army on a surprise visit/invasion. Only he didn’t say freaking.

My mother pretended to be penitent but bought another tin of tomatoes the very next week. I was there. At the time I was never sure if this was an act of defiance, or possibly comedy.

Now I know it was an act of anxiety.

More accurately, I suppose, it was an act of CONTROLLING anxiety.

Not only does she STILL excel in accumulating things, the woman has also never knowingly thrown anything out, either. Up to and including tomatoes. Just in case. It might come in handy. You never know. Save it for best. Better to be safe than sorry. BACK-UP.

Possibly that came from growing up working class in London, and never quite having enough. I don’t know. I do know that at one stage they DID have some sort of clear out – maybe five years ago – and I think the winner was some sort of tinned vegetable with a best before date of 1985. Very possibly tomatoes.

I was reminded of this on a recent visit where I spotted this on a shelf. (Sorry, I didn’t have a Barbie on me). It is a film with a ‘best before date’ of December 1958. AMAZING, right? I mean, what’s on it? Where did it come from? What snapshots would we get of the world 62 years ago? 13 years post-war? Will it ever BE developed? Is it still developABLE? The possibilities are endless!!!

The very fact they’ve kept this relic has got to cheer you up a little at least a bit. And boy, do we really need cheering up. Especially the anxious…

I inherited my anxiety from my mother, I think. It’s more genetic than it is learned, although experiences shape it. I was a good pupil, anyway.

The first time I started my own serious stockpile it was 2015, when I was afraid of Ebola. I was also pregnant with my rainbow baby, after a lot of painful procedures, and in the midst of a relationship crisis that, erm, didn’t end well.

I was very much alone in my head. And my head wasn’t quite right. I knew it was all going to be snatched away from me, again, and this was what I fixated on. So I did what my mum would do, small actions to try to feel safe when everything is spinning out of control. I prepared.

Oh, I didn’t buy safety tomatoes. But I did literally build up a stock of just-in-case gloves, you-never-know facemasks, back-up bin liners, and better-to-be-safe-than-sorry-bleach, in the garage. I found them around a year ago, clearing out to downsize during my divorce. I was embarrassed of myself, my paranoia. Now I kind of wish I’d kept them…

My head is better now, than it was then. So it’s NOT actually me buying up all of Sheffield’s loo rolls. Honest. But I do get it. People are scared. I’m scared. Because this time it looks like it might not just be paranoia, and the world might ACTUALLY be out to get us.

I’m worried for the Smallest Small, a wee respiratory patient at the Children’s since she was 2.

I’m worried for my Dad, who has just had two major surgeries and has no immune system.

I’m worried that we’ll lose so many and so much from a generation made up of the sort of people who keep/acquire/collect/preserve undeveloped film from 1958.

I’m worried for people on zero hours contracts, with no buffers, and few choices.

I’m worried for the single parents, especially those without local support systems, and how they’ll cope. How I’ll cope.

I’m worried about actually living through in real time the first ten minutes of every zombie apocalypse movie I’ve ever seen.

I’m worried what it all means for the world the smalls will grow up in (you know, hopefully).

The one thing I refuse to worry about any more is what people think about me being worried about Coronavirus. I’ve found the derision about coronavirus anxiety to be, well, vitriolic. But do you know what? Stoicism isn’t actually COOL, in and of itself. It’s not ‘just’ flu. It’s not ‘just’ the elderly who’ll be affected. It’s not ‘just’ a big fuss over nothing. It’s not ‘just’ a stiff upper lip and and a bit of gung ho that’s needed.

Minimising the issue isn’t helping. In fact, at no time ever in the history of the world has saying ‘calm down’ ever calmed anyone down, or saying ‘don’t panic’ ever stopped anyone panicking. It just drives the anxious underground to be MORE anxious. Misery may love company, but anxiety LOVES solitude. And that’s when it gets to be a problem.

So let’s talk sensibly and coherently about coronavirus, and about being WORRIED about coronavirus. Or, you know, terrified. Let’s come together to talk about our anxieties. Let the Anxious of the World Unite!

After all, we’ll probably inherit the Earth anyway. We’re the ones with all the tomatoes.

Look, it’s OKAY to be scared. A bit of fear – but not too much – is actually probably the most normal, sensible, and PROPORTIONAL response we can have right about now. And I think a BIT of preparation might be in order too. Socially Responsible Apocalypse Cupboards.

So next time you’re in the supermarket, feel free to pick up an extra tin of tomatoes. Maybe it will make you feel a tiny bit safer. Maybe it will help you keep your anxiety under control.

But also, maybe only pick up one or two, yeah? And maybe pick up one for your elderly neighbour, or donate one to a food bank. People are going to need them, and each other. (Possibly slow down on the loo roll, too).

Being scared together is LESS scary than being scared alone. And coming together is going to be key in the coming weeks and months. I think maybe that’s something people living in post-war Britain in 1958 knew more about than we do. I just hope we don’t lose too many of them.