And so, the end is near. or so the song would have you believe. Personally, I’m not so sure and I’m not sure there're any curtains, final or otherwise, to face either.
I am, of course, talking about the one topic which has taken over all of our lives in the last four months. The advent of Covid-19 and its rapid and unrelenting progress through the world.
This disease has killed at least 43 and possibly closer to 65 thousand people in this little island alone. It has taken friends, family and neighbours away from us and made life almost unrecognisable from this time last year. For the vast majority of us it has meant an unprecedented global emergency, unseen in our lives.
Still, not to worry. At least the pubs are opening.
Tone Police
As you may be able to detect from my tone, I’m not the biggest fan of this grand unlocking. It might be my status as an officially vulnerable person. It might be the fact that I’m an unfurloughed, unemployed, workshy, benefit claiming layabout of a chronically ill person who has yet to feel the true effect of the economic implosion the virus has caused.
I’m still wary though, whatever the reason, and today has only intensified that wariness.
I’m not the most social of butterflies these days, partly due to circumstances and partly due to giving in to my natural hermit-like tendencies. Dropping my wife, Tina, off at work and picking her back up again (the last point is important to remember, apparently) and giving the dog a walk being about the limit of my wanderings away from my own four walls. It is this last activity which has caused the spike in my dis-ease.
Dog Days
It has been the norm; you see that as I and Bonnie (the dog in question) make our way around the local streets, the local people we meet on the way tend to move out of that way to allow us to pass. In the last few months in particular the room they kindly allow us has grown, possibly from consideration, possibly from self preservation, probably from a mixture of the two.
Not today, though. Today, not once, but twice within the space of a mile and a tad more, I was forced into a strange, slow motion, game of chicken. The first of these was against a lady of perhaps slightly advanced years, accompanied by what I assume was her granddaughter. I spotted these ladies a good distance in advance and hoped she might take advantage of the room afforded by the opening to a side street she was bound to get to first and we could pass in polite safety. This was not to be the case.
Draw!
Instead, they made their own resolute progress towards us, not showing any sign of deviating. It felt like high-noon in Mirfield and I was up against an elderly, female Clint Eastwood, eyes narrowed, hand hovering above her holster. In the end I blinked first and myself and Bonnie made our way into the road and past two cars before reclaiming the pavement.
The second occasion saw a younger woman powering round the corner, straight at me in a determined power-walk. This time there was nowhere to go and no time to get there, so I had to brace for impact as she brushed past me. She did get what I felt was a well deserved dirty look on the way past though.
Now these instances may seem minor. It may seem like I’m the one who’s being precious. It might even seem if I feel so strongly I should let the dog get fat(ter). For me though, the mostly daily dog walk is the only exercise either of us gets outside of chucking a toy round the back garden and I feel I should be allowed the small amount of freedom I have. Your mileage may vary.
Drink In Charge
All of which brings us full circle to the grand unlocking. The people I passed today were both respectable looking people you might refer to as pillars of the community. Neither were young. Neither seemed to be adrenaline junkies of any kind. And importantly both were, as far as I could tell, stone cold sober. But both seemed to be in the mind-set that, as things are being unlocked, there is nothing to worry about. As if the virus has magically disappeared because Boris says so. Sadly, this is not the case.
Now you can probably predict where this is going, but I’m not going to be callous or hypocritical enough to ask for a complete blanket boycott of all hostelries. I would, however, urge caution and restraint to those popping out for a pint. I would ask you to watch your distance from those not in your immediate ‘bubble’. I would ask you to show restraint in the bear hugs of friends not seen, scraps with those who look at your pint funny, and even (and I know this is a tough ask), the chatting up of members of the opposite sex.
The Lockdown Lock-In
I ask this for my safety and yours. I ask it so we’re not back in full lockdown within the next month. I ask it so I can be a little more confident when I’m rushed by a little old lady on the street that someone in her family wasn’t celebrating a 90th minute winner with close friends they’ve never met before and playing virus pass-the parcel.
I know this is a big ask. I realise it may be an impossible one, but I’m a hopeful and optimistic person. I’ll keep my ear to the ground and my eyes on the infection numbers and be a lot more cautious with the dog walking for a while. Until the all-clear is sounded a little more clearly however I’m frequenting the Rankin Arms with my good friend Jack (Daniels)
Cheers!
Until next time…
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