Fresh Air

 It’s the end of the Zombie apocalypse. Boris said. He’s added ‘fresh air’ to his ‘hands, face, space’ jingle and we all need to be very thankful that he’s done such a good job in getting the sun to shine on the first day we can leave the house.

I know I’m cynical but what happened to the daily exercise? Were people really staying indoors? If they were then I think we’ve got bigger problems on the horizon than anyone can imagine.

It was the sun that gave everyone hope. This happens each Spring. It’s always happened. The Christian festival of Easter is about hope and new life.  Persian New year starts at the spring equinox where people eat a lot and jump over fires to celebrate re-birth. Passover celebrates the end of a pandemic remembering those that were spared, looking forward with hope to new freedoms. In Japan they go around picnicking under trees and cooing at the cherry blossom.

This year the beginning of Spring has felt so much more important because our normal freedoms have been curtailed for so long. We’ve spent a year being terrified. It’s only right that we want to hope that it’s all over.

When I went out for my walk I noticed so many more people. It really did feel like the end of the zombie wars. People were out and about, blinking into the sunlight. You could smell barbecue lighter fluid on the wind and hear faint laughter tinkling from gardens. The town notice boards gave the only clue that the world had stopped by being full of posters for Christmas events that, in the end, never happened.

It was such a lovely day that there were even geckos sunning themselves on the path and there were butterflies everywhere. ( Is it too early for butterflies?)

It might take me longer than others to get used to the world as it will become again. My life didn’t change too much. I walked and read and thought and wrote. I probably won’t see many more people even now that I can. I won’t be hugging or licking anyone even when I’m vaccinated. (Actually, what is it with all these people who say they are going to start licking? No. It’s disgusting. No licking!) These things didn’t come naturally to me before and I’ve quite liked the excuse not to touch anyone.  Other people will fall back into it, possibly even before they should. 

Yesterday I watched two people in the High Street who obviously hadn’t seen each other for months. She was a fitness queen; sweaty in Lycra and he was an old man; grubby,  in egg stained jogging bottoms who had forgotten how to present himself to leave the house. 

“How are you? Keeping alright?” she said, flinging her sweaty arms round his neck and planting a sloppy kiss on his cheek in response to his step forward with outstretched arms. 

I gasped out loud and hoped the ground would swallow me up when they looked at me.

He explained, “All jabbed up here love,” and winked. 

I think my shock came more from the realisation that people will want to touch me soon and there is no way of avoiding the future but I’m not going to dwell on that. Instead I’ll just keep enjoying the fresh air.