Of, course there were some who would relish this.
Perhaps there were survivalists, even here in respectable suburban Scotland, waiting for it all to fall apart—heading for the highlands with their cans of corned beef, ready to aim illicit shotguns at anyone who came begging. Or maybe they just wanted some place more challenging to take their 4WDs than the car park of Sainsbury's. Riding out the cosy catastrophe, in Barbour jackets and Land Rovers.
'Fuck them,' said Jane aloud. In a year such folk would be starving, chasing sheep around the highlands, and in two years they would be dead.