Buckinghamshire, UK

By Andrew Donaldson

The English, it’s said, refrain from shaking hands with strangers lest this be mistaken for friendship and we pitch up at their homes uninvited for tea. This behaviour runs deep; sociologists point to elaborately coded discussions on the weather which enable them to avoid conversation altogether. While they consider this reserve acceptable, polite even, the rest of the world, the Scots and Welsh included, deem it standoffish and rude. Social distancing is, in other words, second nature in the Home Counties. While not as hard as in the cities, the lockdown has affected village life. The schools, community centre, library, shops, restaurants, gyms and nearby malls have closed. So has the pub and the chippy, both revered local institutions. The supermarkets remain open, although we’re advised not to shop there too often. There was a bit of panic-buying at first. As queuing is hardwired into the English DNA, this was all quite orderly.

There was an initial spike in busybodied pettiness. Selfappointed impimpis posted photographs and clips of lockdown transgressions on the neighbourhood WhatsApp group. The school prefect zealotry and public shaming has waned over time.

Life is normal-ish; we work from home, the TV’s great, the home deliveries are regular and we get out for walks. The newspaper supplements offer some distraction. The Guardian Weekend magazine’s blind date feature continues, but on webcam. The Times Magazine recently reported on the delights of virtual adultery, cheating online and video sexting. There are features on hosting dinner parties on Zoom and travel stories on places we’d never go to anyway. Columnists moan about nail salon withdrawal syndrome and wanting to kill their husbands. The health writers warn of blobbing. Opening another bottle of wine, they say, is not exercise. Speaking of which, off-licence sales soared by a whopping 30% in March.

But a tragedy is unfolding. The Covid-19 fatalities are catastrophic and the country is on track to record the worst death rate in Europe. Downing Street, like some other governments, is tackling the pandemic as if it’s a war and not a health crisis. Not just any war, mind, but that war, and Boris Johnson has styled his response to the crisis on that war-time leader. There is much Blitz bluster; the island will never surrender and the coronavirus will be fought on the beaches and in the hedgerows.

The Churchill schtick continued even as Johnson took ill. When he emerged from hospital, he did so as a symbol of pluck and resilience. The birth of his son shortly afterwards was another tonic for the troops. “Good news at last for Britain,” said The Sun.

Except that it’s not. A major row is brewing over the government’s lack of preparation and its Covid-19 planning failures. In a development that has been described as “very worrying”, coroners have been told that inquests into coronavirus deaths among NHS staffers should avoid examining the systemic failures in the provision of personal protective equipment.

Doctors and nurses have complained for weeks they do not feel safe at work because of the countrywide shortage of PPE.

Every Thursday evening, people across Britain are urged to stand outside their front doors and applaud the NHS for a few minutes in an expression of gratitude for their heroic work. One nurse recently appeared on the news to share her disquiet about this. “Don’t call me a hero,” she said. “Heroes die.”