Covid#23 - Finding our way to that happy bar at the bottom of the mountain

Lockdown is over.  Sort of.

Since Boris’ latest announcement – just over a week ago – we’ve been gradually feeling our way out of isolation; not entirely sure what we’re supposed to be doing or how far we’re supposed to go, experimenting a bit, pushing the boundaries of the lockdown like mischievous children, breath bated, waiting to see if the ‘R’ rises. 

Apparently, Boris refers to this as ‘unlockdown’ and like much of his speech the weekend before last, no-one really knows what that means.  There’s been a lot of criticism.  ‘Stay at home’ was replaced with ‘Be alert’ but none of us is sure of how to do this, what we should be alert to or how to be more alert than we are usually.  Coronavirus doesn’t come with flashing neon lights and bells so we can’t look out for signs of it and presumably, if being alert was as straightforward as avoiding anyone with obvious symptoms of fever or a cough, few people would have ever contracted it.  Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland swerved this message completely, cautiously sticking with ‘Stay at home’, while those of us in England feel like they’re watching us, lab-rat like.  For many of us though, it came as a relief to be told that we no longer had to stay at home.  The once-a-day limit on exercise is at an end; we can drive elsewhere for a walk; we can lounge outdoors in parks or on the beach; garden centres and golf courses have reopened; we can meet another person outdoors and sit with them at what has become the normal social distance. 

I don’t exactly have sympathy with Boris but I think this phase was always going to be difficult politically and to communicate.  The near-complete lockdown we endured from late-March couldn’t last until all risk of the virus has gone – at best, a vaccine won’t be widely available for another year and it may take much, much longer to develop one.  The economic effect of the pandemic is already severe; continuing shutdown would be catastrophic.  Isolation was already becoming hard to endure – harder for some than others – and the impact on the emotional wellbeing and mental health of many continuing to suffer it would be dire.

The risk now may be close to the lowest it’s going to get until there’s a vaccine.  Crucially, the NHS wasn’t overwhelmed by the peak of the pandemic and there is capacity within hospitals to cope with any new surge in cases.  When Boris spoke, the ‘R’ (the reproduction rate of the virus) was below one (it may have risen closer to one now) and last week, sampling revealed that approximately one in four hundred of us has the virus.  The easing of restrictions could be delayed by another three weeks or another three months, but little would have changed and the risk may not be much lower.  It’s understandably hard for Boris to persuade everyone that now is the right time for ‘unlockdown’ though – and not just because he’s Boris.

Many of us took to lockdown far better than we ourselves or anyone else thought we would and, as all the graphs, charts and reports of the falling ‘R’ attest, we’ve seen the positive impact, so there’s apprehension about changing it.  Some of us are relieved, eager to seize the opportunity and personally happy to take some risk; some are more tentative; some understandably fear the risk and aren’t yet ready to emerge; and for others, the risk is too great and they must continue shielding themselves.  Being an SEND teacher, I share Boris’ enthusiasm for a five-point scale (he unveiled his as part of his address) so perhaps, our various responses to this phase of the emergency can be summed up thus:

5	Socialising with other people in larger groups.  Visiting family or friends in their homes.  Never wearing a mask.  Not always observing social distance.
4	Driving elsewhere for walks or exercise.  Visiting family in their gardens.  Sometimes meeting more than one other person.  Not always wearing a mask.  Popping to the shops more regularly.  Maintaining social distance.
3	May be returning to work or continuing to work from home.  Going outside more often and for longer.  Strictly maintaining social distance.  Wearing a mask.  Shopping only once or twice each week.  Occasionally meeting another person outdoors.
2	Continuing lockdown – isolating at home with family, exercising once per day, shopping once each week, working from home or not at all.
1	Shielding at home – elderly or vulnerable.

I’m a four.  I’ve had long walks along the prom at home in Bournemouth or driven for up to an hour for a walk somewhere different and followed that with a run later in the day.  Usually, I’m on my own but I’ve met a small number of friends for a socially-distanced glass of wine in their gardens or a catch-up at the beach and I’ve sat in the street for a drink with neighbours.  I’ve popped to a local shop a couple of times to supplement the weekly big-shop.  There may be occasions when I swiftly pass someone at less than two metres but most of the time, I try to keep to those social distancing guidelines, and I’ve bought myself some masks.

To most of us, ‘five’ seems reckless.  Otherwise, we shouldn’t be too judgmental of each other for our response; everyone’s is reasonable, personally responsible and sensible.  Boris himself has talked about ‘common sense’.  It’s a nebulus thing that makes us anxious.  Each of us probably thinks we have generally good common sense (allowing for occasional lapses) but we can also be suspicious of each other’s – even untrusting.  Usually, our ‘common sense’ decisions have minimal effect on others, but now they are responsible for keeping the virus under control; now they could have life-and-death implications.  Nonetheless, there was always going to come a time when, with due regard for others, we make our own decisions about the level of risk we are prepared to take and we take more personal responsibility.  For many of us with concerns for individual liberty, it’s also imperative that we defer less to the state.

Boris talked of the route back down a mountain being the most difficult and dangerous.  We sustained terrible, tragic losses on the way up, but we made it to the peak, and in doing so, we understood the magnitude of our shared endeavour, we looked out for each other and our trust in each other grew.  Like standing at the top of a mountain though, we all know we can’t stay there forever so now, we’re each finding our moment to leave the summit.  Some of us throw ourselves into the descent with the eager courage and ferocity of a black-run skier whilst others of us find a gentler, slower path.  We know there will be many more sad losses and undoubtedly, there will be bumps and obstacles.  Our faith may be shaken by a few rogues who try a more dangerous route, seemingly going too fast with less regard for others.  We’ll keep looking to our scientific sherpas for advice and support and we may need to pause and wait a while before continuing.  However, with the trust in each other and the hope we discovered on the way up, and with the same mutual respect, consideration and support, we’ll get ourselves to that happy bar at the bottom of the mountain.