Author: Ali April 6, 2020

Leeds City Centre has a lot of shops. In fact, Leeds is known, renowned for shops, shopping, it’s a leisure activity. It’s what Leeds does.

On an average Saturday, it’s a big happening, people are cruising around, browsing clothes, buying a Gregg’s pie or a MacDonald’s burger or a posh Carluccio’s pasta dish; buying a Pret coffee or getting an early beer or a gin.
Hen parties arrive by train with pink balloons in the shape of…well, never mind, they are out for fun. Groups of lads and the odd lass have Leeds United scarves, police on their horses keeping a wary eye in case football emotions run high.

It’s busy. Usually.

I’ll be honest, I’m not a committed shopper myself, but today I need to go to town. Boots have sent me texts saying they have my prescriptions – asthma inhaler, regular medication I need to function. And I was thinking to myself, that’s quite a long walk - but on a bike, not an unreasonable journey.
So that’s the plan – me and my boy are thinking let’s go to town, cycle in, and get back to self-isolation as soon as.

I’m all paranoid though. Cycling on Leeds streets generally says ‘be afraid’. I’ve cycled to and round the city centre several times, and every time I go home thinking I don’t want to do that again. Cars and car drivers are just a threat whether or not they feel like they are. So to be cycling with my youngest son? – so in fact before we set off I said to him, we are not taking risks, we are going to be safe, we are going to use cycle lanes and crossings and walk when we need to..

But the thing was, there was no risk. Hardly any cars, no craziness, and well signed for cyclists. What just happened?

The roads were not completely silent, but they may as well have been. We looked around, observed the traffic lights, but it seemed like a waste to wait at the lights as there were so few cars that we didn’t really need to bother. Where the cycle lanes ran out, I no longer felt bad to cycle on pavements as the only other people using them were Deliveroo cyclists taking pizzas to house-bound loiners. And I found myself feeling a sense of comradeship with these turquoise boys, whom I’d previously seen as a hazard both to pedestrians and themselves.

Wonder what the new post-covid-19 traffic management will look like? I really hope we don’t just revert to 2019 congestion and air quality – there’s an opportunity here too.

As we cycled through Lands Lane and along Albion Place, the words of The Specials ‘ghost town’ came into my head. “This town (tow-owwn) is coming like a ghost town…” In a burst of naivety, we locked our bikes outside Boots and I walked up to the automatic doors. Nothing. They remained closed despite light emitting from the shop floor inside. A helpful shop assistant passing by pointed me towards the Trinity Centre entrance – “go to security round there and they’ll let you in”.

The next twenty minutes required following religiously observed distance up the escalator, standing behind neatly glued floor strips for the queue into the shop, receiving a squirt of hand sanitizer, and requesting my prescription from a friendly pharmacist in a face mask.

Moving down the street, we next went to Wilko’s. Again in line as the shop assistant called down the queue to keep your distance, stressing the need to wait behind the red lines at the checkout. Inside the shop, people swerved to avoid each other when choosing the same aisle simultaneously, as I gathered up bottles of washing up liquid, wipes, make-up remover and kitchen roll. Handily I also found polyfilla and gloss paint for those quiet times at home (for the avoidance of doubt - decorating the house not solvent abuse).

Our last call was for food shopping. The little Sainsburys on Albion Street was open and as we locked our bikes outside, we were approached by a homeless guy. I realise that he probably hadn’t been glued to the news 24/7, but he seemed oblivious to the old two-metre rule and asked for change whilst slurping milk untidily out of a carton. We made our excuses and headed up the street for the larger supermarket.

Big Sainsburys on the Headrow seemed remarkably relaxed compared to the military fastidiousness of Boots and Wilko’s. A homeless lady outside called to us to buy her an Easter egg, which seemed a little decadent in the circumstances but why ask for a sandwich when it’s chocolate you fancy, I suppose. After the food shop, we packed our provisions into paniers and rucksacks, when we were again approached for help. This time it was a quiet couple asking for anything to eat. The lady apologised for asking, saying that they wouldn’t normally ever do this, but they had lost their jobs and had literally no money for food. I handed her bags of crisps pondering – not for the first time – that we’d had it lucky so far in our household.

Gasping up the last hill with paniers packed tight, I was glad we’d found a new way to get around which will give our daily exercise a little more variation. But I don’t feel like going back into town any time soon. If you need any proof of how this will hit the economy and those worst off, it’s right there, and it won’t improve any time soon.

"Leeds City Centre" by The Met Hotel is licensed under CC BY 2.0