I were soaked ine rain this week. Personally, I like it. I have a theory that everyone has a season that brings out the best in themselves, and for most normal people, it's summer, because summer is. good, but for me i love fall: wearing boots, watching fog clouds, going into the woods for a while, having hot chocolate. There is no better season to watch a really long movie while turning on all the lights in your house, for example. Suddenly worrying about hedgehogs. Pans. Go to a pub with a fireplace. All that.
So for people like me (miserable; lots of coats), fall is good. For everyone, not so much. Specifically, the fact that the fall is here, is that the summer is over, and that is where the problem is: we have not had a summer this year, a year when we really needed it. And I can only predict thatthis will come out in a quivering and mistaken (oh, just say 'british' way!) over the next few weeks and months, and probably ruin the voucher the first few days of winter too.
Here's the trick: summer really needed to step up to the plate, to make up for the fact that Christmas was canceled on four days 'notice in much of England, and that pers' winter lockdowns lasted for months, and the original 'freedom day' we had planned for April did not. not really see any change to freedom at all, second freedom day in England scheduled for June had to be moved to July, and also each pub has a different app and they are painful to use etc. After all that, we really needed some kind of national emergency holiday.e for feeling like 15 months of graying like a slug was over, and, while I see the practical inefficiencies of that ("Congratulations on sacrificing a year and a half of your life for the greater good of the country Come out and spit in everyone's mouths you know! ”), Without it, there's a collective feeling that we've missed a distinct moment of closure. The gloomy summer weather across the country didn't help. The The Euro 2020 tournament and the euphoria seeing England do well didn 't solve the problem. Even festivals that recurred a bit were not a silver bullet. The summer of this year never really started, and now it 's over. It can only be bad for the national psyche.
For starters, as the weather starts to deteriorate, we will not even be able to go topark and complaining about the number of other people present which was very helpful to us during the first two blockages. (An intrusive memory from Spring 2020: I saw a man in a park who had a real haircut, not something weird that my girlfriend did to me with a pair of kitchen scissors that made my hair grow like a dome, and I had to fight the impulse to go there and demand that he tell me where he did his job.) The second, more crucial reason , is that this washed-out summer has by no means prepared us for something to happen again, which of course - with the people we've had in charge throughout it all always being in charge - is a threat. constant. Any hint of another lockdown could almost fly if I could have had more than one summer day where I could eat a Twister Lollipop and feel like I had to again hope in my soul. But I didn't, and manyWith my seasonal joy-misery sales threatening to seriously go haywire.
The simple fact of all of this, of course, is that Covid is not gone and we have to adapt to a world of living with it provisionally, rather than entirely below. But there has also been a change of mood: although last year's more virtuous 'stay the f ** k inside' crowd could still mask and sanitize their hands diligently and yelling at people who stand too close to them. on the train, in other areas, things are getting closer to semi-normal again (schools, offices, people on Instagram go on vacation and make me jealous). Still, I can't help but think that the fact of not having been secretly entered into many people's personal grievances for the past year and a half, and can be referred to again as a another form of sacrifice we all had todo so that there is a step back on the path to normality.
Yesterday between the broadcast of impromptu diss tracks against Nicki Minaj and her cousin's big balls , Boris Johnson and Chris Whitty described the " winter plan "for Covid, which was basically: please don't get Covid anymore, everyone, the NHS can't take it. plan A is heavy on jabs - boosters for over 50s, jabs offered to 12-15 year olds - while plan B looks more like the slippery slope we all tried to climb without hit, as the world's longest and worst game show episode, for most of the past two years: Caution, Face Covering, Conseils on working from home.
Although it was pointed out that Plan B would only be adopted if additional protective measures were needed, he said that the larger winter plan was deliberately non-revolutionary, some sort of we-will-do-something-if-we-relatively-pre-empt a national mood that feels ready to degrade at all moment. Johnson et al now face unexplored emotional ground with the English public: after all of this, and a shitty summer, asking them to put on face masks and line up to walk into supermarkets again could really tip them off. edge. Watch out for a dark, gloomy season of people complaining about their neighbors and questioning others' commitment to keeping Covid at bay. There is a definite and traceable line between "not going to enough barbecues this year " and "calling the police on people.opposite to have too many people for Bonfire Night ", and we're about to see the first stir.
- Joel Golby is a writer for The Guardian and Vice and the author of Brilliant, Brilliant, Brilliant Brilliant Brilliant