HUNGRY AND HAIRY: Melissa McBride as Carol Peletier, left, and Norman Reedus as Daryl Dixon in a scene from The Walking Dead.
HUNGRY AND HAIRY: Melissa McBride as Carol Peletier, left, and Norman Reedus as Daryl Dixon in a scene from The Walking Dead. Gene Page

Can pantry withstand a zombie invasion?

HOW much food do you have in your house? No, I'm not inviting myself over for dinner. I'm just curious. You see, I've been thinking about zombies ... and my pantry.

This concern over the state of my kitchen cupboards has been induced by the arrival of The Walking Dead. They're not literally swarming my house, it's just that I've recently become addicted to this post-apocalyptic TV program.

I've been bingeing on episodes like there's no tomorrow (which coincidentally is a major concern of this show's characters).

I'm halfway through Season 6 and I've grown to care for this motley crew of people, struggling to survive in a world of flesh-eating zombies and a distinct lack of easily accessible supermarkets.

They're just so dirty and so hungry. I want give them haircuts (I'm looking at you, Daryl Dixon) and feed them warm, comforting food. One of my happiest TV viewing moments was seeing lanky teenager Carl Grimes eat a huge can of chocolate pudding. Often their daily fare is not so delicious, sometimes consisting of raw turtle, wild dog, snake, and I once saw Daryl eat a live worm.

Watching this show has made me question my own existence, or rather the existence of what's in, or not in, my pantry. Would I have enough food in the house to survive a zombie apocalypse? So, I decided to do a stocktake.

If the zombies arrived tomorrow, here's what my daughter and I could survive on: a packet of popcorn, a bottle of soy sauce, one can of tomato soup, a jar of peanut butter and another of Vegemite, two packets of gluten-free cupcake mix (as it turned out neither of us had to go gluten-free), a jar of sauerkraut, a box of ice cream cones, a packet of lollipops left over from my daughter's birthday party last year, a container of jellybeans kept to bribe same daughter when she has to take yukky medicine, some crackers, some catfood pouches (I intend the fluffy members of our household to survive the apocalypse too), one packet of minestrone soup (just add water), some stockcubes, sugar, flour, rice, gravy mix left over from last year's Christmas dinner, a can of whole baby beetroot that I bought by mistake and now lurks at the back of my pantry (I like my beetroot pre-sliced thank you very much), a packet of dried spaghetti, and at least four half-empty cereal boxes at the top of the pantry (because that is where cereal that we grow tired of goes to die).

So that's about it. I'm not feeling too confident that our food will be that tasty or actually last that long if the flesh-eaters come to town.

So, next grocery shop, I'll have to add some more cans to my cart to boost our supplies, or else I'll be outside practising my worm-catching skills.