Notebook: More optimism, please

The rule of six, the 10pm curfew and Tier 2 lockdowns have left little room for social spontaneity. Organising and idealising nights out that may never happen has become a constant topic of conversation among my friends. New Year’s Eve is a particularly well-discussed event: how will we celebrate the end of a year that we’ll be glad to see the back of, while adhering to Covid rules? Not to worry, one friend told me with conviction last night, “the government will hold an Amnesty on the 31 December where you are allowed to flout the rules.”

It feels as if we are all waiting for the final straw. What will finally make young people kick-off? Well, it might just be the prospect of being booted out of pubs and bars a full two-hours before the New Year countdown to midnight.

Earlier this year, the WHO declared an “infodemic” as dangerous fake news about coronavirus spread faster than the virus itself. But, seven months in, I’m now very much open to fake news (unless it involves drinking bleach as a Covid-cure). Every day on WhatsApp there are war-time whispers of optimism about freedom from the shackles of lockdown and rumours of when we might dance in a nightclub again. The constant speculation and gossip about the rules is, to me, a comforting sign of eternal optimism. The “fact-based” news on television and broadcast by the government seems as contestable as that sprouted by a tipsy friend at the pub, so why not buy into the rumour mill? It’s a tonic. At least it’s uplifting.

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This week a poignant video went viral on social media from a BBC interview with an 83-year-old from Barnsley. The woman angrily pointed out: “I’ve not got all that many years left of me and I’m not going to be fastened in a house, when the government has got it all wrong.” Can we put her and Marcus Rashford in charge of the country?

I cannot imagine how miserable it must be for elderly folk, scared into living out their last few years in total isolation. Why do we seem to focus entirely on life and ignore life quality as a factor when handling the virus?

Social media is widely derided, and with cause, but recently Twitter has at least been a source of some much-needed amusing takes on the virus. One of the best of late being this meme about potential titles of upcoming Lonely Planet travel books. The titles for destinations envisaged include: “Exploring the Inner Wardrobe”, “The Stairwell”, “Cobweb Removal”, “Locating the Front Door” and “The Recycling Bin”. What a treat 2020 has been.

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How we miss travel. I recently took a last-minute trip to Cyprus, in a final attempt to soak up some late sunshine and make use of British Airways credits from a covid-cancelled holiday earlier on in the year. After the thrill of the spontaneity wore off, we realised the only way to fulfil Cyprus’ entry requirements of a covid test AND negative result within 72 hours of flying, would be an expensive private test. A sleepless night later (and much discussion of whether we would rather have quarantined for two weeks) the test results finally graced my email inbox at the last minute and we were able to board our flight.

Stepping off the plane we revelled in the blast of hot air and joined the gaggle of British holidaymakers in a mysterious queue outside the arrival’s terminal. The anxiety which had subsided only a few hours previously resurfaced as we shuffled towards baggage reclaim, unsure of the hold up. Reaching the front of the queue we were split up, plonked down in plastic chairs and a young Cypriot man unceremoniously stuck a swab down my throat and up both nostrils, with very little explanation. Feeling dazed I stumbled away wondering what the point of the £150 private test before the flight was (answer, none) and whether we were meant to self-isolate until we received our results (this was never explained).

The next day we woke up to bright sunshine, blue skies and a negative covid text result – less than 12 hours after the test.

It was certainly the strangest day of travelling I have ever experienced, but a few seconds of unpleasant testing seemed a fair sacrifice for a blissful few days on an (almost) covid-free island.

Stepping back onto home soil less than a week later my holiday blues were accentuated by the lack of any proper test and/or trace on the way back to the UK. I’m one bad news headline away from booking another flight to paradise, one way this time.

The trip has persuaded me to put more travel writing in the Reaction Weekend section. If we can’t – for now – get to our favourite places we can at least draw on happy memories of perfect trips. Where do you want to read about? Email alice@reaction.life