Pumpkin Chasing

For weeks I have marvelled at the displays of pumpkins prominently placed in the entrance to just about every supermarket, local shop and even on the roadside verge of smallholdings and country cottages.

On the main route from York to Thirsk I even saw a farm shop forecourt piled high with the things in a series of bulbous pyramids and with the proprietor looking nervously on in fear of a major disaster as customers attempted to extract the easiest ones lower down. I expect that cause of death attributable to "crushed by a pumpkin" may figure somewhere in health and safety statistics.

It certainly seems to have been perfect growing conditions for this years crop because the size and colour are phenomenal. Yes, big and bright orange.

There was no indication whatsoever of a great take up of the pumpkin stock amongst supermarket consumers as the stacked and boxed supplies seemed to be static even allowing for replenishment for intermittent purchase by well organised parents or impulse buyers.

I did not notice anyone struggling with a pumpkin in the car park nor having to re-arrange their trolleys to allow for the things amongst the weekly shop. This lack of pumpkin activity lulled many, including myself into a complacent approach to the matter of a pumpkin purchase.

There seemed to be no need for panic.

There would surely be plenty of pumpkins to go around when needed.

Shock, Horror for Halloween.

No pumpkins to be had for love nor money anywhere at all.

How had this situation occurred in a western free market economy?

The shelves for all other foodstuffs were typically stacked to bursting and yet the failure to acquire a pumpkin, especially after having made a promise to my family to get one gave me a terrible feeling of inadequacy and deprivation. It was an illogical feeling given that a pumpkin is a seasonal and novelty item and not one of the staples needed for nourishment and well being.

I am not sure, on this basis, if I would be able to cope with a genuine shortage of food.

I made an effort to get one and over about three hours of Halloween afternoon drove around a dozen or so retail outlets. Nothing left at Tesco, Asda, Sainsbury, Morrisons and in most of these megastores not even an empty void where they had previously been. Floor space is at a premium in such places and bonfire night goodies and Christmas specials had already taken up residence.

I sought out the next level of retailing in the neighbourhood express stores and independent traders but again nothing.

It was a case of having to think in broader terms.

What sort of shop might be left with surplus pumpkins?

I had previously overlooked the obvious sources of local fruit and veg shops but only because they are now very rare in our urban and city areas. A pumpkin is a big object but of low ticket price in trader-speak so takes up valuable window or forecourt space. The struggling traditional fruiter and vegetabler may not be cash-flow able to meet the short demand period although, ironically would probably stock the things on an all year round basis if grown anywhere in the world.

Nothing there either.

I glanced through the late afternoon gloom into the doorways of the International supermarkets but saw nothing vaguely orange or round.

An inspirational thought was to find a farm shop but I could not think of any first hand. I remembered a hand written sign on a lamp post in a suburban area pointing to such an establishment and made my way there through the now rush-hour traffic.

I was encouraged by the sight of a large inflatable pumpkin man at the gated entrance. Quite frightening in itself is the thought of a pumpkin able to make it owns way on legs, with arms waving in the wind and sporting a rakishly angled top hat.

The lady behind the counter looked at me with a mixture of pity and disappointment. The former for neglecting my duty as a parent at Halloween and the latter because she too had sold out of her stock, "you will not be able to get one between here and Bridlington" she announced. Sensing my anguish she attempted to sell me a melon but it was no substitute or consolation.

I made that dreaded phone all to the family priming them for the embarrassment of not having a carved pumpkin to put in the window.

Compounding the shame in my shortcomings was seeing a house on the main road with five ghoulish glowing faces mocking me from as many glazed openings.

I made a mental note to buy early this time next year or alternatively rent a shop for a few weeks and fill it to the rafters with pumpkins to make something of a financial killing