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half-nelson

When the first lockdown happened, the streets were empty at night. Buses would swish by me as I walked my dog of an evening, empty, lights blazing, the driver the only human being on board. Every bus was like this. There were few cars. The streets were silent.

Then the summer came, followed by slight lifting of the lockdown, then Autumn and back to Tier 3. ┬áNow it’s dead-winter and we’re looking towards maybe March before the lockdown ends, if then. But the buses aren’t empty. There are more cars on the road. Kids hang out in gangs where, a few months ago, they’d all be inside.

Sure, there are those who still wear a mask outdoors, alone, in the stiff, cold breeze of a northern winter, and shops are still asking customers to mask-up, but families are beginning to gather again and there’s a perception that the boundaries are blurring. The lockdown pressure feels about half of what it was back in the spring and despite the government attempting to ratchet up the fear, we’re becoming acclimatised to the risk, and the grip is weakening.

Chatting to Lishman about this whole thing on boxing day, we sort of agreed that some genii won’t easily go back into their bottles.

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