In March 2020, we were trading as normal and growing every single day. Then we started hearing rumblings in the news about something called Covid-19.
I’ll be honest—I heard it in the background and didn’t really take much notice. But as we reached mid-March, those murmurs started getting louder, until one day we heard that Italy had gone into lockdown. It was surreal—we had just flown back from Rome and hadn’t heard a single thing about it while we were there. Suddenly, we were seeing unbelievable scenes on TV of people locked in their flats, singing to each other from balconies. It felt surreal, but even then, I didn’t consider what might come next for the UK.
Two weeks before our own lockdown, I began paying more attention. As someone who’s always been a chronic asthmatic, I grew increasingly concerned as cases began to ramp up. I decided to put our head office into lockdown, and a week later, we converted our delivery service into non-contact. I had seen Pizza Hut doing it and thought it was a smart and safer option for both customers and drivers. No one was allowed inside the office, and customers could no longer collect in person.
About three days before Boris announced the national lockdown, I could sense something was about to happen. I started receiving emails from major corporate players—Mercedes, Louis Vuitton, Harrods—saying they were closing their operations for staff safety. Now, call me a sceptic, but big companies don’t shut their doors for no reason. In my mind, their boardrooms had already been quietly tipped off by government insiders. Let’s be honest—they all move in the same circles. So in my heart, I knew something serious was coming.
On the morning of the announcement, I heard on the news that Boris would be making a national address at 8 p.m. I knew that was it. At 8 p.m., I was sat in bed with Claire, waiting to hear what he’d say. I turned to her and said, “If he locks us down for more than a few weeks, Sugar Rush won’t survive being closed.” I had a contingency fund in place—as most companies do—but not enough to carry us through six months. So as soon as we heard the country was going into lockdown and schools would be closed, Claire and I got to work. We contacted the car company to arrange the return of both our company cars. The plan was: Claire would return hers straight away, and I’d return mine two weeks later.
We had to accept that our lives were about to change. We couldn’t rely on income because our only source of it—Sugar Rush—was suddenly in question. We weren’t a couple that claimed benefits, and we couldn’t claim sick pay. Our only option was to adapt or shut down.
My phone started pinging instantly. The entire company—nearly 70 branches—went into meltdown. No one knew what to expect. I had almost £100,000 worth of stock spread across the country in franchise branches, and now people were starting to panic, asking if they could return it and claim refunds.
When Boris outlined the lockdown rules, he listed which types of businesses were allowed to continue. But we were caught in a grey area. We were technically classed as a takeaway, but could sweets be considered essential? Even I wasn’t sure. So the next morning, my first port of call was Exeter Trading Standards. I explained our setup and waited for their decision.
Luckily for me—and Sugar Rush—they ruled that we could continue. We were helping boost morale, allowing people to send gifts, and keeping them from travelling to shops late at night. Thanks to that decision, we exploded.
Our website and inboxes were hit from every angle. Orders were flying in and drivers could barely keep up. We were selling in one day what a branch would usually sell in a week—and this pace continued throughout the first lockdown.
But it wasn’t all plain sailing. Even though Exeter had approved us, different councils and police forces interpreted the rules in their own ways. I spent most days arguing our case—trying to prevent police officers from sending drivers home or impounding delivery vehicles. The Covid rules often fell down to personal opinion, and enforcement varied wildly. Eventually, we started printing off legislation, and our drivers had to carry it with them nightly.
Anyway, those were bumps we managed to get over.
For the first few weeks, I worked completely alone. We weren’t sure of the laws around having staff inside the building, and maintaining a two-metre distance wasn’t possible. So I did 19-hour days to keep up.
Then more logistical nightmares started. Although we were allowed to operate, some of our key partners weren’t—our packaging company, sweet supplier, and printing company had all shut. We had just 48 hours to figure out how to keep supply lines moving. Sugar Rush was shipping about £50,000 worth of sweets a week, so it was a huge loss for them, too, if they couldn’t get product to us.
I was lucky enough to be based on an estate with a storage company. I rented a unit and filled it with pallets of sweets and packaging. That meant we had a backup supply just 200 yards away in case of delays.
Going to work felt eerie. Only me, a uniform-making company, and a care agency were still open. The estate was usually buzzing with activity—lorries everywhere. Now, it felt like an apocalypse. Claire and the kids were at home, deep into home schooling, while I tried to steer our company through the strangest times we’d ever faced.
After working alone and barely seeing my children or wife, I was chatting to someone who said they were bored at home and asked if they could help. I needed the support, so I said yes. He got on his bike and came to lend a hand. But I needed more. People were looking for work because businesses had shut down, and it was a godsend to have people around who could jump in and help me pack.
The business went from strength to strength. Although the expansion of branches had paused, trade had gone up by around 300%. I had more money coming into the company than I knew what to do with. I remember waking up one morning to check if my bills had been paid on time. I looked at the account and just went, “F*** me.” I’d never seen so much money sitting in the business account in all my years of trading. Then I thought, I’ve got to pack that somehow! 😄
Anyway, we rolled up our sleeves and got the orders out the door. Sugar Rush was trading, branches were earning money, and most importantly—we weren’t closed. That was all that mattered to me.
We went into lockdown in March, and by June, I made the decision to move buildings. Our space had become unsafe—pallets of sweets coming in and out, with no room to operate properly. We simply didn’t have the capacity for stock, a safe flow for packing, or space for staff. So we upgraded to the building we’re in now.
The move came at just the right time for Sugar Rush’s expansion…
…but slowly, it became its downfall.
To be continued…