Stefanie Preissner How to greet your heroes when lockdown lifts

Is it just me, or does anyone else have Tuesday marked in big desperate circles on their calendar? For the sake of argument and my sanity I need to assume that we are in fact going to be let out on the fifth, and that in the time from writing this to it being printed, no new restrictions have been thrown down like a terrible gauntlet.

I took a biro to May 5 on April 10, when Leo announced the extension of the current restrictions. I was so emphatic about marking the date that I didn’t even take the time to remove the calendar from the fridge. The concentric circles betray how much the date means to me — I leaned so heavily on the pen that the indentation goes right through the pages to August 4. The biro ran out from being held horizontally, so the last few furious marks are actually just inkless scratches on paper. Maybe I thought if I gave the date enough decoration, it might feel important enough to come sooner.

It hasn’t, though.

Toxic oyster

I have felt every millisecond of the last four weeks and three days, so that now, with May 5 in sight, I’m like a Jack Russell terrier whose beloved owner has returned home, hands full of chew toys, having left me on my own all day. I’m chewing the legs of the sofa, waiting for tomorrow.

But just like a well-trained dog, once the door is opened and the world becomes my — potentially toxic — oyster, I won’t run out into the street to bark at passing humans and cars.

For all my moaning about the struggles of being cooped up, I have to admit I’m a little anxious about the freedoms of the future. Is anyone else stuck in that damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don’t headspace?

I’ve been craving a return to normality, but now I’m realising that there is no going back. We’re going to be blindly finding a new normal until there’s a vaccine. I’m worried about that journey.

I’ve been pining over getting to hug my friends, but right now, the thoughts of even shaking hands with someone seems as intimate and consequential as unprotected sex. I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t reflexively hit someone who tried to hug me hello. I’m trying to think of what to replace handshakes and hugs with. I think fist bumps and toe or elbow taps are too frivolous — they look like stock moves from dance routines that belong on Britain’s Got Talent.

Whenever I daydream about how to greet people in the future, I think about two people — Paschal Donohoe and Celine Dion. The former is someone who continues to be my yardstick for integrity, prestige and humility. If you want to find a measure for yourself, think of someone who brings up feelings of security, respect and admiration in you. Would you want to elbow-tap them? Would you feel silly toe-tapping your esteemed hero? I don’t want to bump fists with Paschal Donohoe. I’d feel like a ninny and the childishness would feel disrespectful. My new greeting mustn’t demean the person addressed. Maybe a bow would work — is that cultural appropriation?

It also needs to be appropriate for people I am giddy with excitement to meet. Celine Dion is my idol. Her

Falling Into You album has seen me through some of my darkest moments. If you found yourself wandering down the dark alley of ‘Stefanie’s Memory Lane’ — that’d be the soundtrack. If I ever meet Celine Dion, how would I greet her? A bow is too reverent and contained for the emotions I would be feeling. Could jumping jacks become the new hug? Doubtful — but that’s the kind of energy I’m going for.

As our economy begins to wake up, there are far more serious considerations than how I might greet my heroes. I suppose I’m just becoming aware of how fundamentally things have changed.

Pandemic culture

We now live in an era of heightened caution and increased disease awareness. It’s a new ‘pandemic culture’. We’ll be living life alongside a virus, and that will change our behaviour. Some changes are glaringly obvious — like crossing the street to give an old person the comfort of not holding their breath when they pass you. Others are subtle — like returning your shopping trolley and then making a fist, holding it by your side, rigid with intensity, until you reach your trusty bottle of hand sanitiser or a disinfectant wipe.

We see the potential microbes we never saw before and we can never unsee them. We are changed by what we have lived through. But our culture will lose much if we don’t replace the things we have lost with new things. The circles around Tuesday’s date have deep marks that will be seen long after August 4.