Prepping for Brexit - the madness continues

After a delivery from Waitrose

There seems to be mainly three types of people now.

One type are the Brexiteers, who think that Brexit will be a success simply because Britain is great, and opportunities outside of the EU abound.  There is no reason to prepare in any way.  All will be well.  To prepare is treason.  To doubt is blasphemous.

Then there are the Remainers, who think that Brexit had better be a failure, or else.  To prepare for it is to accept that it will happen.  And it will not happen, because if it happened it would be simply too ghastly to comprehend.  There will be no Brexit, damn it!

Basically both sides are in denial of reality..

And then there are the rest of us, who watch this near universal ostrich-like head-in-the-sand attitude with amazement, and wonder whether our fellow denizens of this sceptred isle have taken collective leave of their senses.

What ever happened to the level headed, pragmatic, sensible British approach to life?  I swear I will end up to be the only genuinely English person around here if this madness continues.

So there it is.  I am one of a select few who hope for the best but prepare for the worst.  Having been raised with stories about war time shortages, I decided to stockpile whatever items I can afford and feel I really need.

Now I have a small house, and storage facilities are limited. Utilising the attic or lean-to conservatory would be inadvisable, since this could attract vermin. Cupboards are already full of the accumulated debris / treasure of decades of charity shop finds, and the under bed space is dominated by additional clothes.

I am not really a hoarder.  It is just that when I see a good quality item, made in England 30 years ago, of the style I wear, which I know I cannot buy new ever again, at a cheap price - well, I jump right in.  And it is a wise habit, I do believe.  About ten years ago I finally discovered a type of trousers that look good on me.  Within a year they were discontinued, and I cornered the market on them on Ebay.  And now they are no longer to be had anywhere, including re-sellers.  So my dozen or so trouser-stash will keep me in leg covering until I die, or so I hope.

Anyway.  The point is, storage space for Brexit preparatory hoarding of essentials is limited, unless I want to turn the Little House into a grocery depot - I am fond of watching Open all Hours, but that is not really the look I strive for.

Luckily I only need to prepare for myself, so the additional storage needed is not excessive.

This is what I did.

Part 1 - The Keeping Room (formerly known as the Dining Room)

Since my kitchen is tiny (I really mean tiny - 108 inches / 270cm long and 70 inches / 178cm wide), so storage and work space is limited.  Therefore I decided to turn the dining room into a sort of auxiliary kitchen, to utilise for storage, and I also now use the dining table for kneading dough, shredding cabbage, and - more in a later post - park my Wonderbag when in use.

However, the room is still primarily a living space, and not a storage/work room. Therefore I purchased/re-purposed two pieces of furniture to store tins and bottles in:

The above is an old Georgian Plate Warmer.  It is made from mahogany, is lined with zinc, and has shelves with slits in them.  The idea is that plates are warmed in the kitchen, and then kept warm in this cupboard.  However, if the cupboard keeps plates warm it should also keep tins cool, went my thinking.  I originally bought it for preserves, but I transferred some of them back into the fridge to make space for tins.

The second cupboard is basically a wash stand with the legs sawn off - the legs have little wheels!  Washstands are usually a waste of space, on account of the tall legs, but with the legs cut off the stand is only 19 inches / 50cm tall, and this enabled me to put the plate warmer on top of it.  This cupboard is amazingly capacious, and holds ten bottles of olive oil, 24 tins of sweet corn, 20 tins of evaporated milk, 24 tins of baked beans, 20 tins of corned beef, 24 tins of chopped tomatoes, 10 tubes of tomato concentrate, 4 jars of chicory, and 2 tins of cream of mushroom soup.  Amazing or what?

The dry goods storage facility needed to accommodate more bulky items, like rice, dried pulses, sugar, etc.  Also, while tins come with their own protection (ie being tins) dried groceries come in bags and can potentially be mined for sustenance by non-DB consumers.  Therefore they needed to be placed into tins.  I therefore bought 10 large Japanese tea tins, 3 lebkuchen tins, and one mega-huge Tetley tea tin, and filled them with my dried food.  In choosing the tins I sought to pick those that would blend well with their surrounding, and I think it might be granted that I have achieved this goal!

Two Japanese tea tins stacked and labelled

 

Ten Japanese tea tins, stacked and labelled - note the plate warmer on top of the wash stand on the right

Close up shot

I have now put the couscous steamers, Mongolian Firepot, and etagere, back on top of the cupboard, in front of the tins.  Note the blue tin in the far right top corner?  A Tetley's teabag tin full of sugar.

Lastly, I piled my three lebkuchen tins - now devoid of lebkuchen, which I fed to my colleagues, since I needed the storage space) on top of my wardrobe cupboard:

They don't fit in quite as well as the Japanese tins, but their corner is a dark one and they are not too noticeable.

Part 2 - The Kitchen

Although I had pretty much already utilised storage space in the kitchen to the max, I nevertheless managed to squeeze in another shelf, above the door, to accommodate 6 old Whittard tins.  They were used in the Whittard of Chelsea shops to store tea and coffee, and are quite capacious.  I filled them with Ostfriesentea (my favourite), Buisman's Coffee Enhancer (only to be had in Holland), dried egg powder, marzipan, and mint fondant.  In case you wonder why one person needs 6kg of mint fondant, I have you know that, according to Unca Scrooge (Onkel Dagobert/Onc Picsou) mint bonbons make excellent trading goods - I might need them in case I have forgotten to hoard anything I need.

Also in the kitchen, I made sure that every glass storage jar was pretty full:

The kitchen cupboard is also rather packed:

And a one gallon bottle, which I had planned to use for sloe gin, but didn't need after all, turned out to be perfect for storing rice in:

Since I had to turf some preserves out of the plate warming cupboard to accommodate my tins, I needed to create space in the fridge for them, which I accomplished by putting the potatoes and onions in a little vegetable rack:

Not quite full yet, but these things only keep for so long and there is no point to hoard too many of them.

Part 3 - Secondary Spaces

The front bedroom was also pressed into service.  I stored all the toilet paper, kitchen rolls, and household chemicals on top of the four poster bed.  However, this looked a bit plebeian, so I surrounded them by books - you can't even see the stuff now:

The little pot cupboards that is supposed to hold a chamber pot for emergencies was also utilised:

Shampoo and conditioner, hair spray, soap, tooth paste, deosticks, Scho-ka-kola, and dried milk - about a year's supply of each.  It is amazing how much one can fit into such a tiny space.  The chamber pot is now in the Mouserleum - just in case they turn off the water supply.

The bathroom can hold about a fifth of my toilet paper supplies:

That's 32 roles!

Lastly, having found a space for everything, I discovered to my horror a large 3kg bag of pasta that needed tucking away.  After much head scratching, I popped it into yet another large tin, and shoved it under a chair in the Parlour:

Can't be seen unless one kneels down to search for dropped mint fondant bonbons 

So there it is. I am almost done with my supplies.

I hope you feel inspired to lay down some yourself - not just for man-made disasters like Brexit, but also for other emergency, like being snowed in or falling sick.

Since I was in that sort of mode, I also bought a small wind up radio in case of a power cut, three tanks of 18 litres each to store water in, and water purification tablets.  And 60kg of smokeless coals.  Also 9 tins of Scho-ka-kola.  And my sister contributed 6 jars of Liebig's meat extract, which one can live on practically forever.  Plus I bought a Wonderbag, to save fuel.

And if some clever clogs tries to storm the house and steal my supplies, I shall use the egg-shaped coals as ammunition for the trebuchet (catapult) I plan to build in the garden.