Here We Go Again

 

There's a certain sense of déjà vu at present. The moment the current incumbent of the office of Prime Minister stands before a lectern and tells us that we won't be locked down for Christmas, you inevitably fear the worst. 

When he tells you to work from home (I always do in my minimal role as Parish Clerk) but still go to the office party (there are no other employees to party with), you know you are probably going to be in trouble. When he urges the whole country to join "a great national fight back" against Omicron and to "carry on giving it both barrels" by queuing up for a booster vaccination (fortunately we had ours several weeks ago) and by testing constantly, you can't help wishing a serious adult rather than somebody who apparently thinks visiting Peppa Pig World is a great way to spend the day, was in charge.

It was left to the Chief Medical Officer to pick up the pieces and recommend that sensibly we should prioritise our social contacts and essentially minimise them, so far as possible. Lockdown by stealth, some are now claiming.

It at least had the advantage of putting a charity board meeting I had to attend on Wednesday evening back onto Zoom. It's a format I had become rather bored and disillusioned with by the time our second lockdown ended earlier this year when I had begun to long for real life social interaction. However, I'll say one thing, it certainly beats driving 10 miles in the dark for a discussion that always seems quicker on screen than in person.

To be honest, with the advantage of living in an area that is yet to experience an onslaught of rising cases, it's been pretty much business as normal. Of course, to avoid the crowds, my lovely gym friends and I had our Christmas lunch date last week; with the benefit of hindsight it was a prudent step. Nervousness seems to be pervasive and, at the request of a number of very elderly members, our Reading Group cancelled its meeting on Monday whilst attendance at fitness classes has clearly waned. I didn't make it to Pilates myself on Thursday, but it wasn't for the want of trying. Reversing my car out of the garage, something didn't feel quite right and when I got out to inspect, the rear offside tyre was totally flat courtesy of an unwelcome piercing. 

My biggest fear now is that plans for the youngest, eldest and Dilly to join us over the Christmas period come unstuck or that one of them will even bring Omicron from London with them. The thought of meeting up in a bleak public park outside Doncaster and exchanging gifts whilst eating a picnic on a table at a service station, like our rendezvous with the youngest last year, just isn't going to cut the mustard this time around. 

I guess after six months of comparable freedom, a bit like attending a meeting on Zoom again, there could be a novelty in hunkering down. If that's what we have to do over Christmas then I want our visitors to join us first and to be fit and healthy. Fingers crossed; there's not long to go.