The weather, suitably, is dreich.
The sky's filled in, the drizzle is unrelenting, all the better, were I a glib columnist dealing in clunking metaphor, to reflect the mood of nation, as we collectively enter Lockdown 2: This Time it's Personal.
As with all sequels, this Lockdown comes freighted with prior knowledge of the original. We should, arguably, know what to expect and so, in that sense, it should be easier. With a more clearly defined end point than the original, it should, in theory, be easier to bear. Only four short weeks of seeing whether or not the sourdough bread-baking skills survived the months back in work, and then off we go. Viewed this way, Lockdown 2: Lockdown Harder should be negotiated fairly easily. A pain in the arse, yes, but at least we know what we're dealing with now.
That's the Panglossian version of events, of course. A bit of time at home, recharge the batteries, maybe we'll get it right this time, get that pesky R rate down, we can all enjoy Christmas. That's the version that it's easiest to tell ourselves, heads down, we've got this, see you on the other side. That's the version that pervaded as I bid my customers good-bye last night, "Have a good lockdown!" we said to each other "See you in December!" I responded to all expressions of sympathy and concern by laughing it off, a chance to catch up with the paperwork, time to tidy up the car park. I'll probably paint the conservatory, that sort of thing. Because that's what you have to do.
Were one less of a Pollyanna, it would be easier to cast Lockdown 2: Bride of Lockdown is the nastier, edgier sequel to the mass-market original. Compared to Lockdown 1's parade of clapping, banana bread and balmy walks in the sunshine, Lockdown 2: the Legend of Curly's Gold is an altogether different beast. Dark, cold, wet. Only the hardiest of families will be off for walks in the teeth of November squalls. Hilarious Zoom mistakes are less forgivable now that you've had eight months to work out how to use it. Leisurely glasses of Sauvignon Blanc on long summer evenings are very much not an option, and optimistic joggers are far more likely to be confined to barracks by light and weather
Which end of the spectrum you sit on depends on a number of factors, of course. Lockdown 2: Electric Boogaloo, is easier if you're in a position not to worry too much about it. An observation that someone far more acute than I made about the first one is that it wasn't lockdown so much as middle class people staying at home while working class people brought them things. The roots of the North's covid woes can be found in part in the first set of restrictions being lifted earlier than was sensible for up here, where there are proportionately fewer people able to work from home.More people worked through, the background noise of the virus was slightly louder than it was down south. Delivery drivers and supermarket shelf-stackers would doubtless raise an eyebrow at people bemoaning being forced to stop work. So there's a slight element of guilt involved at not minding be locked down, as you contemplate all those for whom it is a harder and bleaker prospect.
For myself, I have what I suppose I'd called a nuanced view. I don't dispute the necessity of strong measures to contain the virus, but there's no way of avoiding the fact that it's costing me quite a lot of money. I can wear a few of months of it, if I have to, but it's something of a kick in the teeth, having worked hard to render the whole pub safe, slashing capacity and investing in various preventative measures (perspex is surprisingly expensive, it turns out). Particularly when my industry keeps getting scapegoated.
But still, I'll take it on the chin and crack on, because what else can you do? And, as with Lockdown 1, there is a slight thrill at being home. The novelty hasn't worn off. After a lifetime of working stupid hours, this year has come as a surprising chance to relax which, while I'm acutely aware of the distant sound of cash reserves trickling away, I'm still, thankfully in a position to (slightly guiltily) enjoy.
I suppose the main fly in my ointment is that this feels, in part, a waste, all of the good work done over the first set of restriction frittered away: by opening up too soon, by laissez-faire Government messaging over the summer, by Sunak's idiotic Eat Out scheme, by the utter shambles that is Test and Trace. It feels like a massive opportunity missed. But I'm not an epidemiologist, and who's to say whether this wouldn't have been necessary anyway? I can cheerfully criticise many aspects of HMGs response to the pandemic: its descent into crony capitalism, Johnson's increasingly ludicrous assertions that good times are just around the corner, Dominic fucking Cummings, but I have no better idea of whether Lockdown 2: The Crimes of Grindelwald would have been ultimately needed than the next Internet armchair warrior.
So, my fervent hope is that they get it right this time, that these four, expensive, weeks are used to right the mistakes made first time, that contact tracing is devolved locally to the people who can do it best, that the public abide by the rules, that the rate comes down, that we can get a December trade. Because if we should need Lockdown 3: Lockdown with a Vengeance, then that truly will be the sequel that nobody wants.
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