As the Covid-tastrophe continues apace, having ripped all of 2020 and January 2021 to shreds, it must be apparent by now to everyone that we are living through a seismic historic period of history.
Many of us have not directly experienced war, and most of my generation (in the west, at least) have been fortunate enough to have led materially-comfortable lives. As such, we’ve become accustomed to a world where not very much happens. Or at least, not very much happens that is of such great import that it has shaken us out of our dewy consumerist slumbers.
Until now.
For the first time for many of us, a global event has taken hold that has altered the very fabric of our most intimate lives.
Princess Diana
You see, ‘news’ doesn’t always mean that much on an individual level. I recall when Princess Diana died back in 1997. I awoke on somebody’s sofa in Liverpool still drunk from the night before, and heard the announcement on the radio. And while many of my countrymen went into meltdown and took to the streets to cry and leave flowers, I just carried on drinking.
Well, I didn’t know Diana, did I? It didn’t affect me….
The same might be said of the War on Terror. I – like a majority of people – was not in the military, and I was not called upon to take part. And so for us the ‘war’ was a simulacrum – something played out on television which, while concerning, made little difference on a granular level.
It’s different with the pandemic. There’s really no escaping the news cycle this time. Many of us know someone who has suffered from the disease. I know a couple of people who have died from it. But who can have successfully escaped the consequences of the restrictions that have been employed in the UK, USA and many other countries across the world?
Lockdown Life
Lockdowns have altered our reality – the way in which we see and experience life – to a greater degree than any other measure or event that I can think of. They touch everything. Who you see, how many times a day you see them, where you travel, your ability to engage with culture by going to the theatre or to an art gallery. Your ability to meet friends for a meal or a simple drink. Getting together with your family at Christmas (or Easter!).
Nothing is the same.
And while last March we might have been forgiven for thinking that this was a mere blip, and that things would be back to normal soon; and last summer it felt – in London at least – that we’d seen the back of the damned thing and that our old lives were slowly returning, this winter has dashed any such optimism.
I have been coming to London, either for regular visits or as a resident, for about 30 years now, and I’ve NEVER seen it like it is now.
This Tweet by journalist Martin Daubney hit home:
On Friday afternoon – a time when, even in the depth of January, you would expect Oxford Street and Soho to be buzzing, thronged with shoppers and office workers, and revellers heading out for drinks, instead there were a handful of joggers and walkers taking their daily exercise, a few cars, some ragtag groups huddled together eating takeout from the Burger King on Leicester Square, lots of police and the usual plethora of drunks, drug addicts and the homeless (the one constant that never changes).
And the worst of it is that god only knows then this will be over. When – and whether – our great city will return to its former glory.
Let’s face it, it probably won’t – not for a long time, anyway. The economic fallout from all of this is simply too vast. With zero tourists for a year, fewer students, and forced closures for at least 6 months (and counting) the hospitality and retail industries are being crushed into the ground. And even if everything were to open up again tomorrow, would that be enough to recoup all of those lost profits? Would the crowds be as big, given how many are moving out of the city, and how many workers are now doing their job remotely?
Many times in the last month or so I’ve found myself experiencing genuine sadness – grief – at what has become of our lives. At how quickly very simple things that we used to take for granted have been snatched away from us. Even when things ease up again (assuming they do) I suspect that all of us will need to go through some sort of healing process to absolve ourselves from the dragging, negative feelings of anxiety and helplessness that have become baked in to our lives in the past twelve months.
For me, London will always be a fantastic city, and it will always be home. But that is for personal reasons, and even if the city descends into a kind of sub-Joker urban hellscape I’ll still love it (in fact that might be pretty cool!).
But this does not undermine the fact that materially, socially and spiritually we have lost a great deal.
And only time will tell how quickly and successfully we recoup it.
