Memories of soakage show it won’t work

PEOPLE showed their joy at Ikea and Penneys re-opening by forming insanely long queues to get inside and grab a bargain.

I suspect it’ll be nothing compared to the reaction when the pubs open their doors and dust off the kegs.

So the Government has devised a cunning plan to avoid thousands of us getting trollied when it happens.

They’re going to make us have a plate of grub with our pint of plain.

I had an immediate flash-back to Blinkers, Tamango and other nightclubs of my mis-spent youth when, in order to secure their drinking licence, they were obliged to serve a “substantial meal” before midnight.

Those of us strapped for cash (and by that I mean the entire population because it was the dire 1980s) had already glammed up to the nines by tea-time which for me meant a puffball skirt, white stilettos and sparkly blue eye-shadow – don’t knock it till you’ve tried it – and turned up before 9pm to get in for free.

We huddled in our girl groups sharing a bottle of Ritz with two straws because it was all the alcohol we could afford, while hoping some young lad would plump for the second round with his pocket money without us having to give away more than a quick snog in return.

By the time the witching hour bonged, we were starving. The dubiously orange curry and rice or sausage and chips in a basket (sometimes, excitingly, dried chicken) was a godsend. Did it keep us sober? Absolutely not; cashflow saw to that.

Would it have kept us socially distanced? Unlikely, especially during the long-play version of ‘Stairway to Heaven’.

This plan won’t work either. There seems to be no suggestion it will but the notion of “soakage” will soothe the mindset of some politicians.

Although how on earth a pub, which only offered dried-out hang sangwidges and a pack of Tayto until now will manage setting up a kitchen to provide a boeuf bourguignon is anybody’s guess. And I’m not sure I want to find out.

I’d welcome Covid-19 antibodies, believe me

FIVE thousand lucky ducks are to be asked to supply a blood sample to see if they have Covid-19 antibodies.

It has long been known that the daily cases report is merely a reflection of testing capacity rather than any real measure of the numbers with coronavirus. So I welcome the new project and hope I’m called to duty.

I am sure I had Covid in March. I ticked every symptom on the yellow and white poster and spent a few lousy days in bed, which I’ll gladly swap for being told I’m now immune for whatever time scientists determine is the case. There’s a perverse satisfaction from having had a mild version of the virus because the fear of it was worse.

For many, of course, that’s not the case and its contraction is a death sentence.

If I knew for certain I had it (the rules changed the weekend I was due to be tested), will my daily actions change? Probably not as I’ll still want to protect those around me but I might be more likely to hop on a flight or visit an indoor event.

Rats are cleverer than disgusting litter bugs

COVID-19 brought out the best and the worst in people. Dumping and littering is on the increase because (and I didn’t believe this at first) there are people out there who routinely bring their rubbish to dump in their office bins. Even though waste disposal remained an essential service, some idiots didn’t want to pay for it and, with offices closed, they found a disgusting solution.

The consequence is a scourge of vermin, notably rats. They’re said to be intelligent creatures; if only they knew the houses of offenders.