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The rot has set into the high street as we opt for Tesco over local grocers The rot has set into the high street as we opt for Tesco over local grocers
(4 months later)
People in Britain are purchasing less food than they have for 10 years, according to the Office for National Statistics. Prior to the financial crash, food sales had been rising steadily for a generation. This statistic may sound bleak. The rise of food banks confirms that people in this country are going hungry. But the main reason for the decline in food sales is much more likely to be that people have simply stopped buying quite so much food that they later throw away.People in Britain are purchasing less food than they have for 10 years, according to the Office for National Statistics. Prior to the financial crash, food sales had been rising steadily for a generation. This statistic may sound bleak. The rise of food banks confirms that people in this country are going hungry. But the main reason for the decline in food sales is much more likely to be that people have simply stopped buying quite so much food that they later throw away.
Before the crash, in 2005, figures collated from different sources suggested that Britain was wasting between 30% and 40% of all the food it bought or grew, at a cost of somewhere between £8bn and £16bn each year. A lot of this waste was due to the rigid and controlling processes of the industry. But a lot of it was just people buying more grub than they were going to use.Before the crash, in 2005, figures collated from different sources suggested that Britain was wasting between 30% and 40% of all the food it bought or grew, at a cost of somewhere between £8bn and £16bn each year. A lot of this waste was due to the rigid and controlling processes of the industry. But a lot of it was just people buying more grub than they were going to use.
A report from Prudential insurance around that time, surveying 1,000 households, found that 61% threw out at least one bag of prepared salad a week, without ever removing the packaging. A similar number threw out uneaten bread and fruit, while nearly as many discarded milk, cheese and meat.A report from Prudential insurance around that time, surveying 1,000 households, found that 61% threw out at least one bag of prepared salad a week, without ever removing the packaging. A similar number threw out uneaten bread and fruit, while nearly as many discarded milk, cheese and meat.
That's obscene, when one considers the time and effort that goes into growing an apple, or wheat for breadmaking, or the pittance people are paid to bag salad for our convenience. Yet all that waste must have been good for business, good for the economy, good for jobs, good for growth, despite the fact that on no level was it remotely sustainable or healthy.That's obscene, when one considers the time and effort that goes into growing an apple, or wheat for breadmaking, or the pittance people are paid to bag salad for our convenience. Yet all that waste must have been good for business, good for the economy, good for jobs, good for growth, despite the fact that on no level was it remotely sustainable or healthy.
It's grotesque that affluence is so largely and so demonstrably the ability to waste – huge fridges burning electricity as they cool quietly suppurating cream, or piled-up fruit in designer bowls slowly sinking as the fruit at the bottom liquefies. In Allison Pearson's best-selling novel, I Don't Know How She Does It, our heroine moaned that she was the only one who ever cleared the mouldy fruit out, week after week. How weird – the inability to accept that your family is less interested in either eating or simply curating fruit than you believe it ought to be. Yet, figures confirm that this was the general attitude of the majority of households.It's grotesque that affluence is so largely and so demonstrably the ability to waste – huge fridges burning electricity as they cool quietly suppurating cream, or piled-up fruit in designer bowls slowly sinking as the fruit at the bottom liquefies. In Allison Pearson's best-selling novel, I Don't Know How She Does It, our heroine moaned that she was the only one who ever cleared the mouldy fruit out, week after week. How weird – the inability to accept that your family is less interested in either eating or simply curating fruit than you believe it ought to be. Yet, figures confirm that this was the general attitude of the majority of households.
A lot of it was down to the way in which the pace of life changed in the second half of the 20th century. I'm old enough to remember going to the butcher, the baker and the greengrocer with my mother, several times a week, getting extra stuff in on a Tuesday because Wednesday was half-day closing. Then we got a car, and a freezer. And Templeton's opened in Motherwell. It was the first high-street supermarket I had ever encountered.A lot of it was down to the way in which the pace of life changed in the second half of the 20th century. I'm old enough to remember going to the butcher, the baker and the greengrocer with my mother, several times a week, getting extra stuff in on a Tuesday because Wednesday was half-day closing. Then we got a car, and a freezer. And Templeton's opened in Motherwell. It was the first high-street supermarket I had ever encountered.
Templeton's probably wasn't much bigger than the booze section of a large supermarket now. But at that time, it was "the future of shopping" – going to one place once a week for everything. I loved it when the "big shop" had just been done, the fridge was groaning with food, and there were treats galore. We all loved it. It was like weekly Christmas. Except that the trend wasn't really a sign that there was more leisure in our lives. It was a sign that more people were working outside the home – to buy new essentials like cars and freezers as well as food – and didn't have time for all that meal micromanagement. Twenty years on, in the mid-1980s on a trip to Mexico to visit a friend, I thought she was mad when she announced that we really had to visit a supermercado. Giant hangars of … everything. Amazeballs! Now every town in Britain boasts at least one similar behemoth.Templeton's probably wasn't much bigger than the booze section of a large supermarket now. But at that time, it was "the future of shopping" – going to one place once a week for everything. I loved it when the "big shop" had just been done, the fridge was groaning with food, and there were treats galore. We all loved it. It was like weekly Christmas. Except that the trend wasn't really a sign that there was more leisure in our lives. It was a sign that more people were working outside the home – to buy new essentials like cars and freezers as well as food – and didn't have time for all that meal micromanagement. Twenty years on, in the mid-1980s on a trip to Mexico to visit a friend, I thought she was mad when she announced that we really had to visit a supermercado. Giant hangars of … everything. Amazeballs! Now every town in Britain boasts at least one similar behemoth.
Yet today we're in the midst of another great change in food retailing – and not just on the web. Supermarket chains are moving back into the local high streets that their advent hollowed out. Handy. Convenient. Why keep a packet of salad in the fridge for days until it's slimy, when it's so easy to pick one up on the way home from work?Yet today we're in the midst of another great change in food retailing – and not just on the web. Supermarket chains are moving back into the local high streets that their advent hollowed out. Handy. Convenient. Why keep a packet of salad in the fridge for days until it's slimy, when it's so easy to pick one up on the way home from work?
The return to shopping on a more manageable and human scale has its advantages – chiefly, it helps to curtail all that awful waste. But it also represents the painful completion of a sad transfer of emphasis, away from small businesses rooted in their communities, to large businesses that have the power to call the shots in their relationships with producers, while moving profits away. In fact, it's all been quite sinister.The return to shopping on a more manageable and human scale has its advantages – chiefly, it helps to curtail all that awful waste. But it also represents the painful completion of a sad transfer of emphasis, away from small businesses rooted in their communities, to large businesses that have the power to call the shots in their relationships with producers, while moving profits away. In fact, it's all been quite sinister.
First, the small, specialist family businesses closed, then immigrants willing to work all hours stepped in to make a living from selling stuff people had forgotten to buy at the supermarket, and now, there is intense pressure on those businesses in turn, from the advent of small, local, but largely multinational-owned shops. It's a classic example of the way that free markets generate not choice, but homogeneity.First, the small, specialist family businesses closed, then immigrants willing to work all hours stepped in to make a living from selling stuff people had forgotten to buy at the supermarket, and now, there is intense pressure on those businesses in turn, from the advent of small, local, but largely multinational-owned shops. It's a classic example of the way that free markets generate not choice, but homogeneity.
And even if consumer choice and convenience have been improved, then the option whereby you have your own modest business, make it work and pass it on to the next generation, has certainly been narrowed.And even if consumer choice and convenience have been improved, then the option whereby you have your own modest business, make it work and pass it on to the next generation, has certainly been narrowed.
One of the major problems with developed western economies is the small number of times that money changes hands locally. Buy something from the baker, and he'll buy something from the butcher and the candlestick-maker with his profits, and they in turn will do the same. Buy something from Tesco, and they'll spend their profits on opening another Tesco.One of the major problems with developed western economies is the small number of times that money changes hands locally. Buy something from the baker, and he'll buy something from the butcher and the candlestick-maker with his profits, and they in turn will do the same. Buy something from Tesco, and they'll spend their profits on opening another Tesco.
How did the chains acquire their dominance? By selling us food so cheap that we were happy to buy it and throw it away. Who, after all, can compete on price when they are ordering in such supply-dominating bulk?How did the chains acquire their dominance? By selling us food so cheap that we were happy to buy it and throw it away. Who, after all, can compete on price when they are ordering in such supply-dominating bulk?
At the start of the crash, there was an almost whimsical initial reaction, which fetishised a nostalgic return to craft, through the agency of thrift. Yet the diminishment of everyday human creativity – whether it's the ability to create a small business, or a homemade quiche or jumper – and the reliance instead on having earnings to spend is a real problem.At the start of the crash, there was an almost whimsical initial reaction, which fetishised a nostalgic return to craft, through the agency of thrift. Yet the diminishment of everyday human creativity – whether it's the ability to create a small business, or a homemade quiche or jumper – and the reliance instead on having earnings to spend is a real problem.
The idea that humans can build economies by trading rests on the assumption that anyone with a skill can create something that others will want to buy. Yet, despite all the talk of unleashing entrepreneurship, people are encouraged not to hone their creativity but their employability. Stacking shelves at a supermarket is now seen as a job in itself – and not a very desirable one – rather than just one of the many functions of shopkeeping, for example. Everyone hates automated tellers in shops, but uses them anyway. Britain has thrown away a lot of food in recent decades. It's thrown away much else, too.The idea that humans can build economies by trading rests on the assumption that anyone with a skill can create something that others will want to buy. Yet, despite all the talk of unleashing entrepreneurship, people are encouraged not to hone their creativity but their employability. Stacking shelves at a supermarket is now seen as a job in itself – and not a very desirable one – rather than just one of the many functions of shopkeeping, for example. Everyone hates automated tellers in shops, but uses them anyway. Britain has thrown away a lot of food in recent decades. It's thrown away much else, too.
The dominance of big retail encouraged us to give our money to a small number of large companies, in return for stuff we largely left to rot. Now, even as we buy less, it will still be from them – quite often using wages provided by them. Tesco this week announced that it will be using its scale and clout to reduce the "amount of food wasted by its customers and elsewhere in its international supply chain". I bet it will. And, gosh, won't it look caring and responsible when it hits all of its oh-so-admirable targets – targets that general economic conditions are dictating that we're heading for anyway. Ever feel like you've been had?The dominance of big retail encouraged us to give our money to a small number of large companies, in return for stuff we largely left to rot. Now, even as we buy less, it will still be from them – quite often using wages provided by them. Tesco this week announced that it will be using its scale and clout to reduce the "amount of food wasted by its customers and elsewhere in its international supply chain". I bet it will. And, gosh, won't it look caring and responsible when it hits all of its oh-so-admirable targets – targets that general economic conditions are dictating that we're heading for anyway. Ever feel like you've been had?
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