Lighten up, why don’t you!

Did I hear someone say: “About time too.”

Or as our current prime minister might have it: “Life is but a wave crashing on the shore.”

One of my rather more critical friends offered this summation of my recent columns the other day: “The situation is far too serious to make light of it.” Fair enough, but I might respectfully reply that it is at times like these that I feel we need something to lighten us up a tad.

Last week I reported on a conversation I had with a hypochondriac lady, in late middle age, who, as I described, enjoys ill health. She is never well, according to her, and the advent of COVID-19 has given her the perfect excuse to pile on the symptoms like extra blankets, to solicit maximum sympathy.

She is one of those people who, the longer they bang on about their perceived malaises, the more your attention span wanes. Mine was getting very strained when I interrupted her self-pitying monologue to enquire: “Sounds really bad, did you go to hospital? She paused, gathered her thoughts, then replied: “No, no… I was much too sick.” That was the point where I made an excuse – as the dear old News of the World used to say – and left.

The compulsory wearing of masks at virtually all times, outside and in, is fine by me, but its mandatory imposition last week has highlighted a problem that I had not forseen.

Let me explain: The other morning I was in our local grocer’s shop, getting essentials like milk, bread and a surprisingly drinkable bottle of Spanish Merlot. I was standing – socially distanced from the counter – clutching my purchases, when a voice behind me said: “Morning Louis.” I turned round to see who it was, only to spy a tallish chap almost completely anonymous with his face almost totally concealed beneath a duck-egg blue face mask. I honestly had no idea who he was. Fortunately the person in question had the presence of mind to realise this and mumbled his name. I hadn’t seen him for some time, so I wasn’t really to blame for not recognising his features or body language. But this minor incident did make me realise just how much we do rely on facial recognition. The man is a good friend, so yes, I did feel a bit of a twat in not seeing through his disguise.

I felt less of one a bit later in the day, when a similar incident occurred. I had ventured into the big city (Birkirkara… ahem) and was quietly walking towards where my car was parked, when a female voice stopped me in my tracks with the exclamation: “Ee ara minn hawn!” It was obviously addressed to me, so I turned to survey an amply proportioned obvious female, disguised beneath an all embracing red and green striped face mask.

I didn’t even try to bluff my way out of this one. I nodded in her direction and, in my faux impersonal formal voice, said something like: “Good afternoon.” And left it at that. The lady paused, then said accurately: “You’ve no idea who I am, have you?” I replied weakly: “Remind me.” She then identified herself as one of my students from the far off days of my teaching experience.

To be honest I still had no idea who she was, but at least we parted friends.