The doors to the supermarket had been tricky at best for a few years, and no one could afford to replace them, least of all these days. One particularly unfortunate week they were stuck open for a total of three days before anyone could get them working again. It just so happened that this was the week of the great fog, which seized its chance and snuck through to languish and bathe among the aisles, and in the absence of any air conditioning to speak of, remained there several days after they’d managed to fix the doors. Visibility was about two metres in the biscuit aisle, and it wasn’t uncommon to come across a confused, elderly villager who’d got stuck looking for pickles and had been lost for several hours.