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.
