Prince Charles is right: we are all longing to give our loved ones a hug

Prince Charles has spoken for the nation. Facetime is all very well, he declared, “but it isn’t the same, is it? You really want to give people a hug.”

Too right you do. As lockdown has eased and we are allowed to see friends, enjoy a drink with someone other than our spouse (socially distanced, mind) or drive to where family members might be, daily life has got much easier. The stress of being inside, alone or with the same people, day in, day out, has dissipated slightly. In a world in which the walls have closed in, it doesn’t take much – a recent day trip to the beach left me feeling as if I’d had a summer holiday; a barbecue in a friend’s garden was like dining at Le Gavroche.

But as the small daily joys reappear, the one thing we are missing looms larger by its absence: physical contact with people we don’t live with – specifically a great big bear hug. That feeling of being squeezed, of conveying love and affection and the sheer pleasure of seeing someone. The moment where you don’t need words – or weird waves, namaste gestures or ankle-shaking.

Alas, a hug has become a psychological barrier for most of us. We might be willing to stand a bit more closely together than we are technically allowed; to linger for a chat in a friend’s kitchen after nipping inside for our permitted trip to the loo, but touching? Forget it.

Last night I went round to a friend’s for a surprise birthday drink in her garden. We grinned at each other until our faces ached, and waved awkwardly at arrival and on parting. It felt … wrong. But also, now, sort of normal.

Admittedly, there are some hug situations I don’t miss. Those who hold the clasp for just a moment too long. The people who clearly haven’t been to a dentist for some time. The acquaintances whom you are never quite sure whether to double-kiss or hug, leading to an awkward sort of body slam.

But my parents? My siblings? My nieces? I can’t wait to hug them again. To squeeze them tight, maybe rub my hands up and down their backs a bit, throw in a hair ruffle perhaps.

Confession: I saw my sister last weekend. Impossible to keep my children from hugging her, or vice versa. As we parted, we embraced too, on the basis that, as she had been hugging my kids anyway, what was the difference? I would love to do the same with my parents, but they live 200 miles away – too long for a day trip – and they are both in their seventies.

But we are all getting to the point where we are willing to take our chances. My father says he would hug me. My mother says it would be impossible not to hug my sons. One friend’s granny, when they were allowed to meet recently, declared: “Oh, sod the virus, let’s have a hug.” A statement both joyous and lifeaffirming. After all, if you can’t squeeze your loved ones tight, what is the point in living?