Andy Richardson: Enjoy the simple things and tomorrow will be a good day
At the end of the road there’s a pub. And outside the pub there’s a man who makes Giant Haystacks look like Slimmer Of The Year. When the sun shines, he brings outside a comfy chair and footstool then sits there, soaking up the rays. A pint is always by his side, like some latter-day Bill Werbeniuk. He is invariably smiling.
He’s not what you might call ‘beachfit’. A beach might fit across his belly, but beachfit? No. Rolls of fat cascade like water across the lip of the Niagara. His skin is the colour of mahogany, all of those sunshine hours, all of that UV radiation, all of that opportunity to ignore medical advice and sit in the sun for far, far too long. There he rests, watching the world go by with a pint in his hand and a couple of friends keeping him company. He is happy, he is fat and he doesn’t give a damn.
I have no idea what life the man outside the pub has led. Though I do know this: he is a glass-half-full kinda guy, rather than one whose glass is half-empty. His broad smile indicates a level of contentment that few attain. He has won the lottery of life and cashed in his chips (and rice) for the love of a good time.
Lockdown hasn’t dulled his ability to enjoy the simple things. There is beer, there is sunshine; who cares if the economy is going to hell in a handbasket? Get us another pint, there’s a good lad.
The Government is working hard to bring us out of lockdown. And today in Weekend, we reflect on some of the things we’ll miss – as well as some of the things we’re looking forward to.
We won’t have to put up with tedious press conferences in which Government Ministers spend more time sticking up for their pals than they do finding solutions to the scandal of care home deaths, the absence of PPE for frontline workers or the abandonment of an effective track and trace policy.
We won’t have to listen to special advisors telling us they drove 60 miles to test their eyesight with a kid stowed in the back, then a Minister (good old Michael Gove) telling a reporter that yes, he too had on occasion done precisely the same. And we all believe that, now don’t we.
I don’t think the man outside the pub has much time for the Westminster Bubble, or the Cummings and goings at Number 10. There are more important things to consider; like the winner of the 3.20pm at Kempton and whether Walkers Crisps taste better than McCoy’s.
Lockdown is coming to an end and we must work towards avoiding a second wave. Staying safe and following the guidelines, rather than following our instincts and doing whatever the hell we wish, will help to save lives. And when all of this has passed, as it inevitably will, our lives and our communities will have a different shape. Some of the simple things that we once took for granted will be gone. Some of the plans we made will no longer be possible.
There are those who have lost loved ones, colleagues and friends.
We’ll all have the chance to reflect on the way we spent three weeks without basic liberties; did we get things done, volunteer time, make deliveries to loved ones or improve our score on computer games?
Did we join the army of volunteers who ferried medicines to front doors, helped to reduce the scourge of loneliness among the elderly and provide vocal and financial support to Captain Tom and the NHS or did we sit in the park in defiance of lockdown?
Recent months have brought a new wave of kindness to our normal lives – or, at least, it has for most. For a small number, it has been an opportunity to behave recklessly, to flout the rules, to engage in hypocrisy and double-standards while endangering those less fortunate.
Most, however, have shown compassion and thoughtfulness. Most people have truly been in this together. Doctors, nurses, care workers and hospital porters, not forgetting care home staff, home carers and others in our caring professions, have gone above and beyond. Soon, they’ll be able to adjust to a different pace, soon, the excess mortality will cease.
People will return to work, or find a new job, or reach out if life seems overwhelming. And as a society, we have to be there to catch those who fall.
Not that the man outside the pub will stop smiling. He is the living embodiment of Captain Tom’s philosophy that tomorrow will be a good day. As long as the beer tastes good and the sun is shining, everything is gravy. Now pass him another pint.
