So… thanks in a large part to the unprecedented disaster that is Brexit, Britons who until now have been used to panic buying toilet paper and flour have now turned their attention to panic buying fuel.
When I picked up the children from school this afternoon my car gave me a friendly ‘ding ding ding’ to indicate that I now had less than 60 miles left in my tank and did I want the satnav to guide me to the nearest petrol station?
No thanks. I know where the nearest petrol stations are. But the real question was: would they have any diesel left? My satnav just shrugged.
By the time I reached the outskirts of St Andrews, my car reported that I had 50 miles left in the tank. The game was afoot. I started to plot a possible route north: if Morrison’s has none, then I’ll try Shell on Bridge Street. If they are empty, Dairsie has a Gulf, and beyond that is the Shell at the Forgan roundabout, this side of the Tay Bridge. By that point, I’m nearly in Dundee. But what if I get that far and still can’t find any? I’m not sure I’d get back home. So, would I be better simply returning home and tomorrow setting out west: Pittenweem, Colinsburgh, Leven, Glenrothes.
I joined a hopeful queue (of mostly small buses) at Morrison’s in St Andrews and… and… I FILLED UP MY FUEL TANK! I have never felt so relieved to pour fuel into a vehicle. Now I can relax and park my fully-fuelled car outside my house because remember: we are still in a pandemic!
In related news, can we all just agree that Brexit is an extraordinary failure and rejoin our neighbours in the European Union?
