At the beginning of the pandemic there was a lot of attention placed on hand washing and not touching anything. These days the emphasis is more on ventilation, staying apart from each other and wearing a mask. This is because, as always happens with something new, the research changes what we know.
When the virus first appeared we didn’t know how it spread. It made sense to take all the precautions. Researchers looked at how long the virus lasts in different situations. They found it on surfaces and discovered that in lab conditions (no sunlight, no ventilation, no competing germs) it could stay alive for longer than they thought. These droplets of virus on surfaces of things are known as formites. Unfortunately, it is unethical to ask people to touch these formites to see if they can then infect a human, so researchers published without the final piece of the puzzle.
The reason that they thought that this might be a method of spread is because some people got the virus who said they hadn’t been in close contact with anyone else. To me, this seems unlikely, because humans need social contact, it’s wired into us, so that even people like me, who would prefer no one got closer than 2 meters to me, ever, are finding it impossible to do that. When the lady with the false leg was knocked over by her dog because it saw mine and ran around like an idiot I had to help her up. When a child in school comes in on a cold day, holds their tiny blue hands up and says, “Feel my hands,” it’s impossible not to enclose them in your own for a bit of warmth.
Now, they are looking more at aerosol spread, where drops of virus hang in the air and that is why mask wearing is being encouraged.
As humans we don’t like this unseen fear. We would much prefer the formite theory. If we are going to be got by the unseen danger we would prefer to be able to clean it away.
We smother alcohol gel over everything (small children constantly lick their hands breeding a nation of alcoholics) and clean things with antibacterial sprays and it makes us feel safe.
Or does it?
I might be unusual but I prefer to be in places where this doesn’t happen. I don’t want to be forced to think about all the dirt and bugs that are around us all the time. We don’t live in a pathogen free world and coronavirus isn’t the only thing to worry about. The more I’m forced to think about the one people are concerned with the more aware of all the other things that can go wrong.
The Long Suffering Husband has been climbing the walls a bit recently. I’ve been back at work but his retired life hasn’t completely restarted, so we decided to get away for a couple of days. Going somewhere to shout at the sea seemed like a good idea and as we weren’t allowed to go to Wales we settled on Norfolk.
Some people will absolutely love the lengths the place we are staying is going to in order to keep its customers safe from coronavirus. I’m just finding it grim.
It is a lovely pub with an excellent reputation for food. When we arrived it was blowing a gale and before deciding whether we would eat that even the LSH checked something he’d seen on the website.
“Oh no Sir, you won’t be eating outside tonight.”
Our accommodation is a converted stable at the side of the pub. When we came back in we had to follow the arrows and were snapped at by a member of staff, who squirted us with hand sanitizer and snapped at us for leaving our phones in the room (there’s no signal and we like to talk to each other over dinner).
“You have to check in to every building with the app,” she said, “The government says so.”
We were then shown to our table.
“We were told we weren’t eating outside,” we muttered under our breath.
“It’s not outside, it’s the hut,” she said.
We weren’t convinced and nor were, by the look if, of the other people out there already, shivering and trying to move away from the rain blowing in through the door.
I think our distress had been noticed because before we could order we were moved inside.
After we had ordered we watched the waitress clear another table. She sprayed everything; the table, it’s legs, the fabric chairs. Then she picked up the tray and as she was going down the few steps decided to clean the handrail. This caused her to drop the whole tray, sending leftover food, plates, water and broken glass everywhere.
When she returned with our food she insisted that we take it off the tray, not because she was clumsy but to protect us from the virus. I did snigger. I couldn’t help myself. I imagined the plates levitating onto the tray in the first place.
As we left the restaurant we had to follow the arrows, which took us straight though an enormous puddle.
We might have avoided the formites but there was a grimness to the evening that I could have done without.
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