Until he grew vegetables that he could harvest on a daily basis – which would take a long time – he would have to forage for fresh food. What if he caught four fish, maybe, or shot several rabbits; how would he keep them for future meals? If he picked surplus vegetables or fruits, the same applied. And what about bread? He had a good store of flour and he might be able to get more from the supermarkets if there was any left, but what of the future? Any remaining stocks of flour would surely go off within a year, and he had neither the space nor the knowledge to grow and harvest such things – or the equipment to do so.
It wouldn’t be practicable or efficient to go out every day to catch a fish or shoot a rabbit and pick some vegetables for his next meal; he would probably burn more calories doing so than he could replace with each meal, which would be stupid! And what if the weather precluded going fishing for a while – would he go hungry? He needed to think about not just his next meal, but start planning for days, weeks and months ahead if he was to survive! When locally-available fruit and vegetables were abundant from summer to autumn he would need to gather as many as possible and have ways of storing or preserving them for the lean winter months, when little would be available.
His initial jubilance disappeared. He realised he’d been naïve before, in thinking that everything would be okay just because he had a nice house with a garden and would soon be out on the sea catching fish and picking or growing vegetables. The reality of his situation and the practicalities necessary for self-sufficiency and survival dawned on him, and he felt suddenly daunted by what would be involved and the tasks ahead. Furthermore, he was on his own! How would he manage to do it all by himself? And if he got injured or became sick and couldn’t go out to fish or to forage, what would he do?
As the enormity of it all came crashing down on him he had a panic attack. He poured a large brandy, rolled a cigarette with shaking hands then went outside to sit at the patio table; he felt scared and overwhelmed and his heart was thumping. After several minutes he started to calm down as the logical and practical parts of his brain kicked-in with possible solutions.
Mankind had survived for millennia before electricity, fridges or freezers: those inventions were a mere blink of the eye relative to our existence. There were many ways of storing and preserving food; he had a grasp of the basics from his general knowledge and love of food and cooking. He felt that with further research from his books, and with practice, he could master it. He had a book on preserving by Oded Schwartz somewhere in his belongings, which he hadn’t looked at for a long time: years before, he’d intended to do some preserving but had never got around to it.
He knew that meat and fish could be preserved by air-drying, like jerky or biltong; by salting or smoking; or by a combination of all three methods. It could be potted, like pâté, rillettes or confit; where the meat was cooked slowly in fat until tender and then put into dishes or jars and sealed with more fat on top, he seemed to remember. Fish, in particular, could be pickled in vinegar, like rollmops. Fruit and vegetables could be preserved in many ways; using salt, sugar, vinegar, oil or alcohol. They could be salted and preserved in brine by lacto-fermentation, such as sauerkraut; turned into jams and chutneys; pickled in vinegar; stored in oil; air-dried (mainly fruit, he thought); or a combination of these methods. He knew the principles and would need to do more research.
Many fruits and vegetables would also keep in their natural state for far longer than people thought, if they were stored in the correct way. Most people had been accustomed to putting these foods in the fridge, or in a basket in a cupboard, often wrapped in plastic bags; consequently, food would go off quickly due to bruising, condensation or lack of air-flow. If they were hung up, or wrapped in soft, breathable material to prevent bruising in a cool, well-ventilated area, then many foods would keep well for several weeks, or months in some cases.
From his childhood he remembered his mother wrapping apples and pears – and maybe carrots and other vegetables – individually in newspaper and storing them in wooden or polystyrene boxes in the garage all through autumn and winter. She would also hang up bunches of onions tied together, or placed in old pairs of nylon tights. He thought the wine cellar should have a cool, fairly constant temperature all year-round, and with minor modifications could be turned into an excellent larder.
He made some coffee then fetched his notebook and wrote down some ideas, followed by the materials he would need and a list of places where he might find them. He needed to visit builders’ merchants; there were a couple close to his flat that should have the things he wanted. If not, he would have to try B&Q and Wickes on the retail park – he planned to go there anyway to visit Tesco to see what was left. He needed to go to Sainsbury’s as well; he wanted to get as much salt, sugar, vinegar and oil as he could for preserving food, and while there he would visit Warburtons, the small garden and pet supplies shop nearby. He put a few tools into the Land Rover and the sawn-off into his rucksack then reversed from the garage, closing it after him. Right – time to go shopping!
His first visit was to the two builders’ merchants in Beeching Road, which were close to each other. He managed to break into them with some difficulty, collected what he wanted then carried it all back to the vehicle. He got two galvanised steel dustbins, a large rain-water butt, lengths of guttering and drainpipe with fittings, sheets of thick corrugated plastic, a roll of sturdy wire mesh and various lengths and sizes of treated timber. He also collected various items of hardware such as brackets, steel rebar, screws, hooks, etc. Between the two places he found everything he thought he would need; if there were extra fittings or other small things he needed, he could always cycle back another time.
He was about to drive off when he had an idea; the batteries for his drill at home wouldn’t last long and he had no way to recharge them. He made two more trips to both places and collected several cordless power tools: a sabre saw, a jigsaw, a circular saw, a more powerful drill than he had, and an angle grinder. He chose tools of the same make so the batteries would be inter-changeable, plus a few extra batteries. He could do the work using hand tools, but it would be a lot quicker and easier with power tools. Once the batteries were spent he would just have to throw them away.
Before going to Sainsbury’s he decided to drive to the retail park and have a look in Tesco’s to see what was left there, so he headed off up Beeching Road to the traffic lights and turned onto King Offa Way. He was there in a few minutes and parked by the entrance. Climbing from the cab, he slung the sawn-off over his shoulder and walked into the store, listening. The place was a mess, like the other stores he’d been in, and there was a faint smell of decayed fruit and vegetables from produce trampled on the floor. As he walked past the tills towards the second aisle he heard a squeaking noise that sounded familiar and then a man appeared suddenly out of aisle three, pushing a trolley laden with goods. He was in his mid-thirties probably and had a shotgun on his shoulder. There was a tense moment of surprise and indecisiveness from both men, and then both started reaching for their shotguns.
‘Hold on!’ said Jamie, sharply.
The guy stopped, hesitating, then Jamie lifted his hands, palm outwards in a peace gesture.
‘No need for either of us to get hurt,’ he said, his heart pounding.
The man looked nervous and unfriendly. ‘Keep away from me,’ he said, glaring at Jamie. ‘I don’t want trouble, but stay away; you hear?’