‘EasyJet 10.15’, says my phone. Today’s the day we should be flying to Alicante to see my father in law who is currently housebound due to Cover-19. He’s 85, not in the greatest of health, and we were hoping to spend precious time with him over a long weekend. These plans ended with the advance of Covid-19. Instead, because my partner is working absolutely flat for of a well known government department currently dealing with record workloads, with less than half the staff in work, I’m doing a shop for her Bristol based mother who is also housebound due to you-know-what. Even when the virus doesn’t affect you directly, you just can’t miss it.
Our family certainly can’t avoid Covid-19 not just for reasons of self-isolation but also because one of my sons had the bloody thing. He’s young and strong and today emerges from total self-isolation. having completed the requisite seven days of doing nothing, other than playing the PS4, eating ready meals and, no doubt, consuming copious amounts of Thatcher’s Gold, that well known cure for Covid-19.
I joke about it but I didn’t feel like joking when my son became ill. The odds were always that he would pull through with only relatively minor effects, and happily that proved to be the case. But with the increasing evidence that we are all at risk, I cannot pretend I didn’t have a slight wobble. There were no guarantees of anything.
To date, we have been lucky. Sadly, this has not been the case for everyone and until we are completely out of the woods, which will probably be sometime in 2022, we’re all at risk, some more so than others.
We’ve rearranged Easyjet for the autumn, but who knows if we will still be able to go? All that matters, really, is that we all pull through. Alicante can wait, I hope.