No doubt we’ll meet again with rose-tinted glasses

Someone commented the other day that the current epidemic is a bit like the war but without Vera Lynn to chivvy us along.

And without Churchill too I thought. And without any decent songs like ‘Who do you think you are kidding Mr Hitler?’ and ‘ Lay down your arms and surrender to mine’.

The war must have been horrendous for most people, just as the Covid crisis is today, but if popular thought is to be believed, everyone pulled together.

Rationing, Baedeker raids, gas masks all round (sounds familiar?), nights in the shelter, all taken with great spirit and boundless good humour. Everyone believed there really would be blue birds over the white cliffs of Dover before ere long.

Or did they? Has all that caring sharing bonhomie been created retrospectively?

Can we imagine that in 50 years’ time everyone will reminiscing fondly about how we all clapped the NHS from our balconies every Thursday (or was it Wednesday? See, I’ve forgotten already!)

Will there be a nostalgic musical in the West End featuring all the great hits of Covid-19? (But Baby it’s Covid out there or Sanitiser’s Coming to Town maybe.)

Can we imagine Covid-19 theme weekends at Butlins in Bognor with everyone dressed in PPE? Prizes for the best face masks. Oh, how we queued!

I mean, people have Jack the Ripper parties at Halloween and merrily burn Guy Fawkes on November 5th, why not Covid parties?

Roll out the Scotch eggs! Free entry if you bring along a six pack (of toilet rolls, natch).

Have a good laugh at those dreadful 2020 outfits. Those tattoos!! And as for the hairstyles ... Nan did you really have a pink streak?

Will Davina Mccall’s great granddaughter be presenting a primetime telly programme when sentimental OAP couples are wheeled on to recount tearfully how they met on Zoom or standing in line at Lidl?

As for Vaccine Day, known as ‘V Day’, well, I can imagine Trafalgar Square would be packed on an annual basis, especially if it was combined with Black Friday.

Just as the town of Ramsbottom has a WW2 weekend when the whole place is transformed into 1945 (though a few years back some people dressed as Nazi officers caused outrage. Nothing like the truth to upset people) there would surely be a market for Covid festivals, though I’m not sure what the souvenir stalls would sell.

Hindsight is a wonderful thing, but the truth is, much like the war, the current situation is dull, depressing, frightening and for many people downright tragic.

No amount of rainbows stuck to steamed up windows can detract from the fact that we are up the proverbial creek.

OK, the arrival of vaccines is a bit like America joining in after Pearl Harbour, but the ramifications are going to go on for years.

However, we will only remember the good things, wearing our proverbial rose-tinted glasses. All together now: We’ll meet again...