2020 has been a truly surreal year with
Lockdown to oppress us and social life strangled since early March. Strenuous
efforts are now being made to ease the Lockdown but pub-drinking at a
regimented distance or restaurant waiters in visors, rather curb one’s appetite
and public confidence in the government’s grip on events and on the Covid-19
pandemic is at a low ebb. Somehow Royal Ascot with horses but no spectators or
Liverpool winning the Premier League in front of an empty stadium are deeply
unsatisfying and the cricket season is in limbo with the ball itself being
castigated as “a natural vector of the disease”. What famous names will be
spinning in their graves!
The pent-up frustration and impatience of the
great British public are clear to see. A relaxation of the social distancing
rules, coupled with some decent weather, brought out hundreds of thousands to
the beaches of the South Coast, packed like sardines. Sandy Bournemouth, with
hotels closed, was overwhelmed by day-trippers; music parties and private
“raves” attracted the attention of the police and were defended by violent
bottle throwing; scenic rural villages and green mountain areas battened down
the hatches and awaited the dreaded influx of barbaric town-dwellers in
camper-vans.
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| The crowded joys of Bournemouth when the sun shines |
Inevitably, Liverpool FC fans, celebrating
their League triumph, overstepped the mark and, laden with flares and
fireworks, almost set fire to the iconic Liver Building. It is probably wise to
turn a blind eye and put the rowdiness down to Merseyside joie de vivre
and hope that the return of the usual rain and grim reality will sober up these
anarchic perpetrators.
For high and low, rich and poor all want an
escape from the dismal routine of Lockdown Britain. The creation of air
corridors to 10 or so mainly European countries, exempt from quarantine rules,
is a good start and the sleek Frogs and the tattooed Rosbifs can get close
again and contemplate each other with their usual mutual incomprehension – but
enjoy the wine, the girls and the grub!
We want to escape the last 4 pandemic months of
excruciatingly uninformative press conferences, the contradictory edicts and
the squabbling scientists with their tendentious projections. We say “enough”
to the mendacious media, the self-righteous politicians and the grand-standing
critics. We have scant patience with lead-swinging BLM agitators proclaiming,
entirely fancifully, the “victimhood” of fine communities they know little
about, irrelevantly planning statue-toppling (egged on by no less than the woke
Archbishop of Canterbury) to the disgust of millions of Britons of all creeds
and colours. As the Hard Left musters its troops and hones its intolerance,
infiltrating professions which should know better, we know how much more
civilised it would be if as a nation we agreed with “enlightened” Frederick the
Great of Prussia who promised, 280 years ago; In my State everyone can find salvation
after their own fashion. He broke down religious and class barriers – we
can do the same and very much more too.
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| Lessons to learn from Frederick the Great of Prussia |
We want to escape the din of politics, say, until
the end of September. We do not grudge our politicians a holiday either; we
hope against hope that they will return refreshed and reborn! We know there are
serious matters to resolve thereafter in our trading arrangements with the EU
and in recovering from our unexpected economic slump.
Meanwhile let us have the peace to enjoy our
incomparable land. Even in lockdown we have loved the birdsong in our garden
from modest blackbirds, finches and sparrows. On Thursday we broke our
isolation by inviting an 86-year-old neighbour round for a few glasses of
Prosecco. He is a retired schoolmaster, a spry, civilised man, and we conversed
very happily. We live near the sea and benefit from its bracing air. Some will
ramble over hills and dales, or boat over lakes or up rivers; others will visit
stately homes or meander round country churches; above all, everyone to their
own taste. Clear away the cob-webs, shake out a leg, be happy!
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| A lovely British Blue Tit |
SMD.
27.06.20
Text Copyright © Sidney Donald 2020
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