If these diary posts are to end, then Day 69 seems as good as any for them to go down.
Admittedly the notion of lockdown is only being eased, but as we drove past the car park of Golden Acre Park earlier, the idea that this phase of the pandemic is effectively over, is a mere haircut away.
Even as I type this I can hear four or five voices coming from next door’s back garden. The hare is running!
Yet what has really changed since last Sunday? Our kids aren’t going back to school tomorrow. My mum, however, is now allowed to leave her house. Baby steps, without any babies involved.
In fact, the school was quick to suggest there was no way they were going to be ready for the first of June. That the 8th was more realistic, but the risks were still likely to be high. Contact, most definitely low. We have slots to drop off and pick up. If we miss them, the child has to say there for life. I might have misread – or hoped – that last bit.
The whole thing feels like an exercise in meeting a date. R is still the same as it has been for weeks. There was an increase in the number of cases and deaths last week. Nothing points to us having met the five tests, but when the Government is marking its own homework, then dates have to be achieved.
Which is a very public sector way of managing a pandemic.
“We’ve published a date so we can’t go back on it now!”
Though there is more to the notion that these diaries are reaching their end, than just a commentary on policy failings and idiots starting fires with disposable barbecues.
There does come a point where something runs its course. I know I have been holding back sharing elements on here – family, work, mental health – because, well, I no longer want to put a positive spin on things. I know it will take longer to explain what I mean, compared to how long it will take to write.
When you reach – Level Can’t Be Arsed – it is time to back away,
No doubt I will feel differently tomorrow.
Just don’t call it a comeback.