Losing the run of ourselves as the heat rises

THEY were out in force at the weekend. ruining it for everyone, oblivious to the good weather, to our need to frolic in the water and expose our pale, flabby, corona-bodies to the elements.

They have some nerve.

They almost caused a riot in Salthill, another in Co Down, their strong-arm tactics sending the public into meltdown. And we think things are bad in the States.

Checkpoints. Questions. Meddling. Interfering. Making us feel guilty for wanting to build a few sandcastles.

Give us a break lads, sure we’re after doing ten weeks in lockdown now, or is it eleven? Who’s even counting at this stage? The point is, we’ve done our bit, we’ve all been good boys and girls, let us have our fun.

Besides, everyone knows once the temperature rises above 20 degrees it’s party time; the normal rules don’t apply, Covid-19 or otherwise.

But there they were, all stern-faced and officious, stopping us in our tracks: ‘Where ye going lads?’

‘Where do you think we’re going? To the beach of course. Do you think I drive around in my speedos ‘cos they’re comfortable?’

And it wasn’t just beaches, it was beauty spots too, any places where people were likely to gather and take their tops off, pop open a few cans and throw on a few tunes.

Basically, they, as in the guards, are a nuisance. The figures are telling us the virus is dying out, Tony said we’ve ‘effectively extinguished’ it, and Micheál Martin, in a move which had absolutely nothing to do with currying favour with the electorate during what is an incredibly delicate time for politicians, has suggested we accelerate the lifting of restrictions.

The general consensus is we’re home free. It’s all over. Let us take a moment to reflect and then resume life as we once knew it.

Yet the presence of gardaí in some, not all, popular public spaces over the Bank Holiday weekend suggests otherwise. It suggests caution, a hedging of one’s bets, maybe even a shifting of responsibility perish the thought.

It suggests a little residual fear, an unease strong enough to send the guards out on the hottest weekend of the year to hector the great unwashed, but not so strong that anyone is going to stand up on a podium and read out an inspirational, pre-prepared, speech, to the nation.

And this restriction of movement wasn’t even organised properly. There was no sense of uniformity.

Some beaches were off-limits, others weren’t, some towns and cities had checkpoints at every juncture, others a ‘come and go as you like’ policy.

Is it any wonder we’re all a bit confused? That it feels like we’re in lockdown limbo?

This ambiguity, when combined with the sun and the cider, has sent us into a collective tailspin; walking around in half-naked groups of four, our ardour dampened but not quite quelled; holding clandestine barbeques in our back-garden, hiding the smoke in case the neighbours see; feeling like a spy in Cold War Russia whenever we drive outside of our 5km perimeter.

We were easy to govern when we were wracked by fear, when the talk was of tens of thousands of us dying, when the future was even less certain that it is now. The message then was clear: Don’t leave the house. Don’t look at anyone. Don’t touch anything - especially not your face. Oh, and here’s a few quid to keep you going.

Now however, we are restless. Phase One has passed without incident, why can’t we just skip Phases Two, Three and Four and advance to go?

Mere weeks ago we applauded the Government for their stringency, for exercising caution while others lost their minds. But if they don’t let us off the leash soon we’ll happily turn on them, point to countries we’ve previously derided as examples of how it should be done.

What’s needed now is another inspirational speech. Leo needs to get his best people on the job. He needs to find a suitably stately setting - one with good acoustics, flattering lighting - and tell us what for.

He needs to take a little responsibility again. It’s not up to the guards to curtail the spread of the virus. It’s up to us, and we’ve just about lost the run of ourselves.