Supping on Super Saturday
Drinkers outside the Market Porter in Borough Market, south London, make the most of the relaxation of lockdown restrictions that allowed pubs to reopen yesterday
IT WAS hyperbolically billed as Super Saturday. The day when lockdown would relax and England would have so many of its precious freedoms restored.
The pubs would reopen and cinema projectors would roll, the Prime Minister declared. Hairdressers would restore the nation’s crowning glories, bored zoo animals would again find an admiring audience.
But could we be trusted with such liberty? Apparently not. Accident and Emergency braced itself for a New Year-scale influx of the drunk, the damaged and incapable.
Police were on high alert for that point when hot weather high jinks would invariably tip over into violence. Our politicians warned us to behave.
Even as Chancellor Rishi Sunak begged us to eat out to help out, show up and drink up, spending time and money reviving the economy, Health Secretary Matt Hancock pre-emptively scolded us like children for going loco when the pubs shutters went up – they could all come down again, you know.
But after record-breaking sunshine in May and a mixed meteorological bag in June, Independence Day dawned to a backdrop of leaden skies, intermittent downpours and exasperating humidity. And with that, Super Saturday turned into the dreariest of damp squibs.
Maybe it was down to West Midlands police and crime commissioner David Jamieson? He had publicly announced his hopes the day would go off with a whimper rather than a bang. “When the weather is inclement, the problems we have are somewhat reduced,” he told the BBC. “So we are praying for rain this Saturday.”
His plea was answered. Moments after midnight a wedding took place in Runcorn. By half past, hair salons from Harrogate to Portsmouth were busy trimming.
Would any pubs actually open on the dot of 6am? It seemed to be the stuff of urban myth, but by 8am Wetherspoons punters were tucking into a cooked breakfast and a restorative snifter. “It’s like winning the league!” declared one parched drinker on tasting his first since for ever. Or what felt like it.
Mid-morning saw masked adrenalin
‘Super Saturday was a bit American. A Happy Monday would have sounded a lot more British’
‘After the blazing sunshine of lockdown, the New Normal will be just as rainy as the old one’
junkies riding the Oblivion rollercoaster at Alton Towers. Restaurants cleaned tables for lunchtime bookings, hotel receptions lay hushed and expectant.
As bobbies patrolled the lockeddown beats of Leicester, elsewhere, countless families were reunited with tears after weeks of worry and anguish.
At Legoland, punters queued up in anoraks. Campsites reopened in the drizzle. After staring at the same four walls since March 23, the misty views across Derwentwater or the rain-glossy ancient oaks of the New Forest were balm for the soul.
The busiest scenes appeared to be in London’s Borough Market where crowds bunched on narrow streets to sip pints from plastic glasses. The market, usually known for its food outlets, was packed yesterday evening as drinkers gathered in large numbers for the first time since lockdown. On reflection (if Boris ever engages in such a thing) calling it Super Saturday was a bit American. A Happy Monday would have sounded a lot more British; less boozy, more business as usual.
As it was, the downbeat day was a far cry from the dire warnings and contradictory advice that preceded it. We were sternly told that rules had evolved into guidance; we would all be drawing on national reserves of common sense, assuming there was any left and infractions would be punished.
Chris Whitty, the Chief Medical Officer, had addressed us the night before, his expression reassuringly strained. Reassuring because, perversely, every time the Prime Minister ramps up the rhetoric in an effort to convey can-do optimism, we look to human waxwork Prof Whitty for an unsmiling reality check.
The only man in the land we truly trust to know what’s going on pointed out our newly restored freedoms “came with a risk”. We nodded. But who could have guessed that risk might be rain?
At least there was the chance of a decent drink to drown our sorrows. The hashtag #WelcomeBackPubs started trending on Twitter, despite our new socially distanced pubs bearing little resemblance to the boozers of old, with table service, drinks ordered via apps and no mixing of groups.
Meanwhile, marriages finally took place again, with no more than 30 guests. Churches could conduct services, albeit without hymns due to the higher risk of Covid-19 transmission during singing. “Peace be with you” handshakes were suspended, much to the relief of the masses at Masses.
Libraries threw open their doors and community centres were once again back in operation. If they wanted.
But like many cafés and bars, a great many chose to hold back and opt for gentle wait-and-see roll-outs rather than mass reopenings – such was the fear that Super Saturday instilled.
The relaxation of lockdown was a test. We passed. Was it the weather or was it that we are not quite the reckless louts our politicians believe us to be?
Either way, after the extraordinary blazing sunshine of lockdown, the New Normal will be just as rainy as the old one. The virus is a long way from gone, Prof Whitty told us. Let us hope the same cannot be said of the summer.