Yesterday, London got plunged into Tier 4 lockdown – a whole new level in our three-tier lockdown system. Basically it’s a full lockdown, and Christmas is cancelled for the South because of a much quicker spreading strain of Covid meaning that people just shouldn’t mix.
As you can imagine, the people of London took it very well. They didn’t piss and moan about how they’re London and they should be allowed to do whatever they want because they’re important. And they most certainly didn’t all pile onto trains at Kings Cross Station in a bid to get out of the city before the lockdown kicked in like spoilt, petulant children.
Oh, no, wait.
They did all of that.
Christmas is cancelled is how the media would like it to be known. Scrooge Johnson has cancelled Christmas. Bah humbug to him. Nigel Farage has blamed China. Christmas is fucking ruined.
Except it’s not, is it.
What’s ruined is piling into houses and sitting around getting drunk. People have to make alternative plans and it’s short notice and it’s shit, I get that, but Christmas isn’t cancelled. And, we were all absolutely fine when we were cancelling Eid and whatever else we bumped off because of lockdown reasons earlier in the year.
I don’t have that much sympathy to be honest. Londoners have been swanning around like Covid’s not a thing for quite some time. Their R numbers have been higher than a lot of the places that were put into Tier 3 at the start of December so, in a way, fuck ’em.
I do think, though, it’s massively selfish to pile onto trains – non-socially distanced, obviously – and flee to either a family home or a second home away from London to escape a lockdown. Effectively, you shouldn’t technically return until the lockdown’s lifted, but also you’re potentially taking this new strain on a whistlestop tour of your nearest and dearest, which is what the lockdown was supposed to prevent in the first place.
Christmas has now gone from the five-days off that Covid was taking to just one day for the rest of us. We’ve had to look into the ins and outs of it all and what constitutes a bubble and whatever for this one. We’re not forming a Christmas bubble with mum, as she’s already in our support bubble in that we’ve been seeing her since the start of lockdown, so she’s okay to come and stay. She’ll only be here for a couple of days and then we’ll ship her back home and burn everything she’s touched. We’ve got it covered. But if we’d had to knock it on the head for whatever reason we’d have adapted there too – even if it meant plating up a load of food and driving over there with it so she could have a decent Christmas meal (because I make a decent Christmas meal) on her own we’d have done it.
We wouldn’t have all piled onto a train to somewhere to avoid the rules.
And then Europe’s on about shutting all the borders to people from the UK because of this new strain. And everyone’s up in arms about that as well. It shouldn’t happen to us, we’re the UK for chuff’s sake. We’re amazing.
And, also, people wanted to get away before Brexit makes everything really fucking difficult in a week and a half. Even though nowhere is anywhere near ready for that bullshit, but you can bet your bottom dollar we won’t say, “Hey, can we just hang on a wee while longer, we’ve got our hands full with this Covid thing at the minute and haven’t been able to fully focus on the Brexiting.”
But then, it’s all being sorted out in London isn’t it? I guess if it doesn’t go their way they can always just run away…