Rules, rules, rules

Dear me. I'm no genius, but I've always considered myself reasonably intelligent. I won't say that I'm always quick on the uptake! But I can usually read rules and instructions and get their meaning. But I'm having a problem with working out who I can meet up with under Tier 2 rules. 

Here's my situation. I live alone. I am a one-person household. I am not in a support bubble. Where I live is now in Tier 2.

So far as I can see, when the current All-England lockdown ends on 2nd December I must remain on my own, and cannot resume socialising, apart from meeting up to six friends in the open air, provided we are socially-distanced. But I can't visit someone else's home, nor have a meal with them in a pub or restaurant. Although I can go to the local studio for a pilates session, I can't socialise afterwards, unless it's out in the open air. 

And this how it must be until either Sussex goes into a different Tier (Tier 1, hopefully), or the Tier system ends (apparently it might in early February).

During the five 'Christmas' days from 23rd to 27th December, the government is proposing a relaxation of the ordinary rules. It benefits families mostly. I think I'm allowed to form a Christmas Bubble with up to three other households. But only with them - nobody else. And most of my local friends will want to reserve Christmas Bubble-space for their families, so there probably won't be room for me. I have however arranged to see another person living alone, who will be by herself on Christmas Day. I rather think that's the only bit of social life I'll have over Christmas. And after 27th December, it'll be back to the regular Tier 2 rules, and unremitting solitude. 

Don't think that I am pining for company. I like being on my own, and it doesn't bother me one bit. I never feel lonely or depressed, nor do I feel cooped up because I can get out in the car daily and go for a walk at my destination, whether that's a small town or the countryside. And if the weather is awful, there's plenty I can do at home. I'm very good at creating projects for myself, and lockdown conditions are great for getting a big job done. 

So I remain upbeat and happy enough with just emails and texts as my day-to-day social contact. 

But I do miss my ordinary social life. I want it back!

Lockdowns - and the Tier rules - are very tedious. I haven't got lax or sloppy in my observance of social-distancing, but the novelty of it wore off long ago, as did the sense of imminent danger from a virus spreading like wildfire. Wearing a mask and keeping my distance has become just a necessary routine, a duty, something I do doggedly. Partly because it's compulsory; partly because it might do me or somebody else a bit of good. I could however drop it all tomorrow if allowed to, and I'd never miss it one bit. I want shop assistants to see my smile again. Who knows, it might brighten up their day. It would certainly brighten up mine.

So many people must be craving a return to normality, to being close again. There's talk now of a third wave of infection to come early in 2021, probably weaker than the first two, but the government will still have to decide what to do. I hope it chooses to ride that third wave out without any lockdowns or restrictions, relying on just the basic sensible precautions we had back in March 2020.

Much is made of the fear that the NHS will become 'overwhelmed', but I gather that the real problem is a constant shortage of staff, not a shortage of beds. And in any case, there are indications that ordinary winter diseases are going to be less of a problem this year, because most people aren't mixing so much as usual and - putting it simply - it's presently harder than usual to catch a cold. Many people believe that the NHS will actually have adequate capacity for extra Covid-19 cases, and won't need lockdowns to protect it. I see what they mean; I hope that's how it goes. 

Of course the arrival of one or more anti-Covid vaccinations will make a huge difference. Well, I'm ready to offer my arm. Just give me the invitation. And a card - or a stamp on my new passport - to say that I've had the jab. Then I can start forgetting all those hard-to-understand rules.