I don’t have a rant all that often, so here is one. Last week, buying my lunch at a Tesco Superstore I fancied getting an apple. More by accident than by habit I scanned the label, which read “Pink Lady” and “South Africa” as country of origin.
Considering the effort to bring those apples nine and a half thousand miles northwards (196 hours by car or 18 by plane, google claims), I tried to find something more local. “Chile”, “Morrocco”, “Spain”, ten different kinds and not a single one picked off a tree within a thousand miles.
Get what you want, wherever, whenever has its upsides, I won’t deny buying into that concept, but even without going into deeper complexities of consumerism, as soon as you question ordinary oddities there’s no denying that things have gone way out of order.
Whatever is wrong with wanting a normal yoghurt!? Normal as in “not a diet product”. Seriously, any given attempt to do just that regularly leads to remote hatred, disbelief and renunciation. “0% fat”, “Same taste, less fat!”, “Now 100% fat-free!”. I don’t want to starve myself eating a yoghurt, I am a human, burning calories and demand a choice of tasty, rich food (in a very annoyed tone), for lactobacillus sake!