This is time we will never get back – and I’m mildly cross
THE Great British lockdown is beginning to feel like a prison sentence in God’s waiting room. Younger folk might find our current situation simply boring. Something that will pass with Netflix for company. For them, the memory of self-isolation will become a nostalgic joke many years from now, with comedians recalling that it took a deadly virus to get people to put down their phones and go jogging.
When you messaged your best friend: what a year this week has been; and when celebrities living in comfort and with no money problems sang a karaoke version of Imagine to keep all our spirits up. Bless.
But for my generation, this is a large slice off the time we might have left and it makes me cross.
Not cross enough to catch a bus without a mask and sit next to the only other passenger, or deliberately engage random strangers in a close proximity chat in the High Street, but cross enough to say the b word that has double g in the middle, and stamp my foot, as long as no one is looking.
Which is a sort of English crossness that will probably go unnoticed even if I raise my swear word to the Anglo Saxon version of go away, because I will say it under my breath for fear of offending anyone.
Optimists may say the chances of actually dying from Covid-19 are slim but it is still a lottery no one wants to win and there is no time off for good behaviour. Not only that, but the rules of the game keep changing.
Can you now drive to Bridlington to take your daily exercise? Is it against the law to meet half a dozen pals in someone’s garden and self isolate on plastic chairs, whilst drinking cans of alcoholic refreshment?
Would such an enterprise be considered to be against the spirit of the law or acclaimed as ‘Good thinking, Batman’? And what would happen to style outfits, were up and bopping and he invited some onto the stage. He wore a black zoot suit that had wide silver lapels with black music notes on them. Half way through his act, he pulled them off one by one and threw them to the audience. They were Velcroed on.
“Sadly some of the stars have passed on,” says Rick, “but they have left wonderful memories.” ...cross enough to say the b word that has double g in the middle and stamp my foot, as long as no one is
looking social distancing on the walk home with senses and ambulatory ability befuddled by five per cent lager?
“You’re my besht mate, you are, Brian.”
Sentiments that come with compulsory back slapping and manly embraces.
“Never mind social dusting, Brian. If we go, we go.”
At about which point, you would deserve a punch in the face from Brian.
Instead of breaking the rules, think of the positives and the conversation you might have with your son in 15 years time when this is but a faded memory.
“Dad? Why is my sister’s name Paris?” “Because she was conceived in Paris.” “Thanks, dad.”
“No problem, Quarantine.”
To be honest, isolation has so far not been a strain on me and Maria although, when the virus is beaten, it will be nice to get back to life in all its predictable boredom and normality.
Like shopping, having coffee, venturing outside without a mask, watching sport on TV, having a beer with pals I haven’t seen for months. Going to Ireland to see the other half of our tribe and, most of all, getting cuddles from my grandkids.
What’s top of your to-do list when the virus is finally beaten? Answers to the usual address.