I want my life back – but we do need some Covid rules
WHY is it that instead of feeling a great whoosh of liberation at the prospect of all Covid restrictions being lifted this week, I just feel confused? As a member of the gung-ho brigade at the start of the pandemic (yes, I was one of those who blithely – and, it turns out, foolishly – thought it would be just a few people with flu), I’d always imagined flinging away my masks with exhilarated abandon when the day finally arrived.
Yet that isn’t going to happen. Having avoided Covid for almost two years, I stumbled at the finishing post a few weeks back. For triple-jabbed me, it was indeed just like having flu. A mild flu at that. But having recovered, I still can’t smell the delicious spring flowers popping up in the garden and I’m more tired than usual. Maybe the tiredness is just February sloth but if these are Covid after-effects, I’d prefer to have skipped them.
Fact is, we still don’t know much about the virus’s longterm health repercussions. Almost anything is possible. And if we stop testing, we won’t in future know whether people are suffering from long-Covid complications or some other ailment. All of which makes it tricky to know how to behave once the restrictions are lifted this week.
In freeing us from mandatory mask wearing and selfisolation, the Government is gambling on everyone doing the right thing to keep themselves and others safe, whatever that might be.
For the clinically vulnerable, it’s like being thrown into a lions’ den. For the rest of us, it’s the murky quagmire of ‘acting sensibly’. As if the definition of that was ever known or agreed on. One person’s sensible is someone else’s lunacy. One person’s careful is another’s neurotic. For instance, I have friends who still won’t eat indoors at a restaurant, certainly wouldn’t come to a party and who are still avoiding trains and planes. Yet I have others who are flinging their arms around everyone they meet and cramming enthusiastically into crowded, unventilated spaces.
The Government would like to imagine we’ll all keep taking Covid tests if we feel ill and, if positive, stay at home until we are no longer contagious. But the reality is more complicated. Many of the less well-paid will face a difficult choice: either they take holiday or unpaid leave so they can isolate, or they ignore their symptoms and carrying on working to pay the bills.
At the opposite end of the spectrum, many of the wealthiest cannot be relied on to be sensible (or generous) when it comes to protecting others. A number of serious early Covid sufferers appeared to think their lofty status meant they were somehow immune to silly viruses.
Of course, we all want our lives back. But a total relaxation of rules is unnecessary and borderline insane. If it goes ahead, I’m prepared to put good money on a substantial rise in Covid hospitalisations next month. Beware the illwinds of March.
Insta fakes make it Insta rich
IMPOSTORS are all the rage. The BBC drama Chloe (fiction) and new Netflix hits
Inventing Anna (based on a true story) and The Tinder Swindler (documentary) all feature central characters who aren’t as they seem.
In an age where we have Google, Instagram, LinkedIn and Tinder profiles to browse, it should be easy to check someone’s identity. But these stories illustrate how socialmedia tools can cut both ways.
Anyone with the necessary time and desire can use them to construct a convincing false backstory. There have always been con artists but now they have a new set of equipment that lets them fake it to make it.
I do love to be beside a seaside that’s free
BRITISH beaches vary from the magical to the downright skanky. But they at least have the huge advantage of being free.
In Italy, 90 per cent are licensed to beach clubs. Critics say the clubs have a crony stranglehold on the coastline and Italian Prime Minister Mario Draghi has promised a review of the licences.
Club owners, as you might imagine, want to protect their lucrative sunlounger real estate and argue the review would open Italy’s coastline to Mafia dealings and foreign investment.
All of which makes the recent spat here over Weymouth’s beach huts – where long-term tenants face being booted out by a community trust – look rather trivial.
The Mediterranean and Adriatic might have a more obvious allure than the North Sea and
English Channel, but there’s a lot to be said for a free spot to pitch your windbreaker and a picnic blanket.
Cheeky compliment that left me chuffed
ON MY way to the Tube station, a man walked towards me rolling a cigarette. I thought he might be our plumber Phil, so I gave him a smile. He wasn’t Phil but he smiled back, asking: ‘Are you married?’ ‘Yes,’ I lied. ‘Well, he’s a lucky man,’ was the reply.
Not so sure about that, I thought, but I am lucky I’m old enough to feel chuffed by the exchange, rather than find it a mortally offensive intrusion.
The neat way to cure writer’s block
AS ANY freelancer will recognise, diversionary tactics come in all shapes and forms. Yesterday, unable to get going on a piece I’m writing, I decided to move my whole office around.
A sideboard stuffed with files was hauled to the other side of the room. My desk was shunted to a different wall. Hours were spent
fiddling around with paraphernalia. And indeed, the room looks a great deal better and I have a much more attractive view.
However, today I’m no closer to finishing that problematic article. Kitchen cupboards next?
Brilliant Ben, the best of British...
ACTOR Ben Whishaw is in danger of becoming a national treasure. Whether he’s in Bond or Paddington, A Very English Scandal or This Is Going to Hurt, he’s a brilliant and increasingly mandatory ingredient in all things British.