Published by Hubby has just returned from the shops. Shopping on a Sunday. I can see my late Grandmother, a dedicated church cleaner in her time, pursuing her lips in silent disapproval. And my late mother’s clear blue seventy five year old eyes glinting rebelliously at the mere thought of indulging in the delicious decadence of such holy defiance!
Hubby says the streets and car parks were three parts empty. Just like they use to be in the good old days- before shopping became a national hobby bordering on a compulsive obsession. He says another two shops in the mall have closed for good and a third has a sign in the window saying “Please don’t steal our stock just because we are closing down”. What a sad reflection on our society.
Apparently, the majority of the other shops are closed for the day. An unheard of practice five, even just three years ago. When we first met, as Security Officers, at the newly built mall in 1991 it was just the same. Total shut-down. Peaceful and quiet. People didn’t feel the need to shop. Maybe they weren’t so greedy then. I certainly didn’t know anybody with obesity in those days. Nor anybody in serious debt.
But then the big supermarket, which had put so many little independent food stores out of business, demanded that the mall be open to let their precocious shoppers shop on the Sabbath. Before long all the shops were opening seven days a week, completely ignoring the day of rest or even the old English market town habit of half-day Wednesday closing to compensate those staff who had to work on a Saturday.
More and more people started shopping on Sundays until you were considered rather odd and sad if you didn’t. And you couldn’t just use one mall, you had to use different ones. I recall driving for over an hour to one out-of-town mall must so that I could airly tell colleagues that we’d “Just popped in to ….” on the Monday morning. The fact that we’d only buy a coffee and maybe a pair of discounted designer label socks, or maybe a loud statement piece of jewellery was carefully omitted.
Now the only statement we study on a Sunday is the one from a bank. A traditional stalwart of society who is unwittingly making the seventh day one of rest once more. The little shops are already leading the way back to a six day week. How long before the supermarket giants follows suit and the weekly market starts to thrive once more in the square remains to be seen. Personally, I don’t think it can come soon enough.
