How long?

Another day, another negative Covid test. Christ alone knows how. I spent much of the day yesterday in rammed and unmasked Bath and much of yesterday evening in rammed and unmasked Bristol. Public transport was largely rammed and unmasked, too. I almost feel like quoting Donald Trump when he said, “Maybe I’m immune?” although it’s probably a combination of being triple-jabbed and luck.

Being triple-jabbed does at least give me the confidence to go out and about, not least to pubs and on buses and trains. In my limited experience, I’d suggest that pubs, buses and trains are petri dishes for the coronavirus. Let’s put it this way. Knowing that I am far less likely to get seriously ill and even die thanks to our friends at Pfizer means I can enjoy my pint more contentedly. If I had not been jabbed at all, I’d avoid these places like, well, the plague, or Covid-19 as we call it.

One of my friends who is double-jabbed has only partially recovered following a recent encounter with Covid. He had it back in August and still hasn’t recovered his sense of smell and taste and still feels – and I quote – “absolutely fucked” following the slightest bit of exercise. And when he had the virus, he had all the heavy cold symptoms and blinding headaches that he hadn’t expected. “Who knows how I’d have been without the jab,” he told me. Given how ICUs and, sadly, mortuaries are filling up with the unvaccinated I certainly share that view.

Maybe that’s why so many people have given up on mask-wearing because they reckon they probably won’t die if Covid catches up with them?

I’m still being cautious, or at least as cautious in terms of looking after my family, friends and of course myself. I’ve avoid the virus so far. How much longer will my luck hold?