I write this blog post on day one of London’s third lockdown. That’s right. In the time since my last post in September, we have been through a second lockdown and now we’re beginning our third.
You might assume that would be enough. Surely people would have learned by now to adhere to the very basic requests of wearing a mask, keeping their distance from others, and not having social visits indoors.
Alas, they didn’t. And we are all paying the price for their selfishness and ignorance.
We are not allowed to visit anyone, not even for Christmas. So my parents don’t get to see their grandchildren. It’ll also be the first time ever where I don’t see my parents on Christmas Day.
We’re not allowed to travel in and out of London… something that is apparently being enforced by the police. And given that the ever incompetent prime minister announced this with eight hours notice, you can imagine the chaos on public transport as people rushed to get a train in or out of London to get home.
Eight hours notice.
Thank god I no longer have to commute in and out of Central London. With everything that’s been happening, maybe the death of my career was a blessing in disguise?
Just a little while ago, my parents came by to drop off our Christmas presents on our doorstep. We were all able to see them one last time this year… Very likely the last time for several months.
It didn’t hit me until the car was pulling away how much I missed them – and how much I was going to miss them in 2021. I didn’t cry, of course. My children are old enough to recognise sadness when they see it. I guess I’ll save it for tonight.
Take care out there, everyone.