A surprisingly busy day in the life of ‘loophole lockdown’
From socially distanced exercise with a pal to takeaway pints, Guy Kelly offers up little freedoms
So, Lockdown 2. You wake up, fall out of bed, boil the kettle (don’t read the news – oh boy), and think: for the next four weeks or so, what can and can I not do? Well, like last time, certain things are entirely off-limits, such as restaurant meals and trips to the gym – but unlike Lockdown 1, other joys remain permitted.
With little else in the diary, you could squint at the Government’s catchily named “Health Protection (Coronavirus, Restrictions) (England) (No 4) Regulations 2020” document, read between the lines, then employ a level of cunning of which Edmund Blackadder would be proud, and end up finding enough loopholes to have a relatively “unlocked” lockdown day – in a safe and socially distanced way. It’s all in the small print, if not the spirit…
7am
Rise and shine. You look in the mirror at your hair, accepting that with salons and barbers closed for at least a month, it’s only going downhill from here. But let’s not give in, there are reasons to be cheerful. Up first: morning exercise, which, this time around, you can spend as long as you reasonably like doing, wherever you want, and as often as you fancy.
And it doesn’t have to be done alone, either. Since people from separate households can meet outdoors one-onone to exercise, you drive to a friend’s house and catch up in their driveway, between breathless bouts of jumping jacks. It feels a world away from the draconian exercise rules of spring.
10am
It’s been a while since a holiday, so over a takeaway coffee and croissant (still allowed), you browse package deals. You remember the man in the news last week who set up a limited company to employ his family, thereby supposedly sidestepping the rule of six, and briefly consider a similar ploy. Could you employ your partner, children and spaniel and say you’re going overseas for work purposes?
Perhaps that’s pushing it – and it sounds like a faff anyway. Besides, you have lots to get through today, beginning with a dentist appointment, which is still permitted (chiropractors and opticians can stay open, too). After your teeth have been checked, you really ought to go back home, as the guidelines say, but…
12pm
Instead, you go for a takeaway lunch in the park with your mother, since sitting on a bench (“recreation”) with somebody from another household is allowed, so long as you obey social distancing. You suggest a swim, to burn off those calories, knowing that while lidos and pools are closed, rivers and beaches aren’t. You’re not allowed to travel to them, but fortunately, you live by a river, so off you go for a dip – the kids are at school for this lockdown, anyway. While at said river, you fashion a fishing rod and catch a trout for supper. That’s OK, so long as it’s fishing, which is deemed
“recreation”, and not angling, which is a sport. Sports are a big no-no.
3pm
You got rid of your mother, who frankly couldn’t understand why you didn’t just go to the supermarket to buy food instead of all that faff with the reeds and string, and go to pick up your children from nursery and school. On your way, you pass a succession of retailers: newsagents, off-licences, petrol stations, bicycle shops, launderettes, hardware stores, garden centres, post offices, vets. And you briefly use a public toilet because – blessed relief – they’re staying open.
Kids collected, you drop the older one, who is six, at home with your other half (working from home) and carry on the day with the three-yearold, because you plan to meet an individual from another household later and, for some reason, kids under school age don’t count as extra people.
6pm
You’re in the mood for a tipple. Where to drink? Well, don’t go looking for any communion wine: while private prayer is permitted, religious services are not.
You bump into a friend. “Socially distanced pint?” you say, with a wink. “But it’s lockdown, the pubs are closed,” your friend responds. “Ah, but look at the guidelines,” you say, “pints can be collected or delivered from pubs so long as they have been pre-ordered online or by phone – and I rang the Nag’s Head yesterday to reserve a pint of Doom Bar… and a J20 for my toddler, who, you will recall, is narratively still with me.”
All you need now is somewhere to drink them. The local botanical gardens are off-limits, so off you pop to the gardens of a nearby stately home (Public Health England have decided they can stay open), socially distancing as you go.
8pm
You return home, to tell your partner about all the ways your Lockdown 2 day has differed from last time, and the loopholes you think you’ve discovered. Your partner is confused, furious, and quite reasonably demands to know why you have to be so pedantic all the time. You don’t have an answer for that one.