Big Boris announced that the 19th July would be Freedom Day, but to us little has changed during these four weeks. Mr O. is not rushing off to steamy raves but he is happy to finally be able to play golf on grass rather than on our living room carpet and I can finally meet up with the women in my book group face to face rather than by Zoom. My yoga sessions, though, continue by screen. No one feels quite ready yet to do our downward dogs with no social distancing.
Facemasks are no longer obligatory but our local shops ask their customers to wear them, so does all public transport. Cinemas and theatres also insist on mask Theatres now ask the audience to arrive into the auditorium at different pre-set times. But what a treat to see a live play rather than our constant diet of Netflix and I-Player. Last week Mr O. and I went to the cinema, such luxury to see a big screen again, but found that we were only four in the audience. We might as well have sat in our own sofa – without a mask!
Some days ago very dear friends kindly invited us to a garden party – another treat - but asked all guests to take a Covid 19 Test before arriving. Oh, for the days when one presented the hostess with a bunch of tulips – now it is proof of a negative test. Is this the new normal everyone refers to?
Mr O. and I thought we would ignore the Olympics this year, who wants to see an empty stadium? But like everyone else we got caught up in the medal-fever and inspired by the gold-winning Tom Daley I might even take up knitting. Maybe synchronised knitting might become a new Olympic sport like break-dancing? We shouted Well Done to the cycling couple Jason and Lorna Kenny, who between them came home with more medals than many countries managed, and that includes my home country Sweden, which only garnered four golds. But just wait until the Winter Olympics next year!
The greatest joy, though, was being able to see our family again. Last week-end we drove for hours to finally meet our latest grand-daughter, now nine weeks old. Her father, doubly jabbed, got Covid and all plans to meet little Martha were put on ice. She was born during the lock-down and only her proud father was allowed to visit mother and child in hospital.
Another treat is that museums and galleries have opened again to the public. Mr O. and I love being able to see exhibitions without the large crowds. We spent a day in Margate to see the Ellen Harvey Exhibition at the Turner Gallery. The British-born artist spent a year painting small jewel-like landscapes inspired by Old Masters on graffiti-ridden walls and telephone kiosks in New York. It all brought back memories of the indomitable Ingrid Beazley, the driving force behind the Dulwich Outdoor Gallery, where well-known street artists produced their versions of masterpieces in Dulwich Picture Gallery.
Freedom Day, no, not really. We still cannot plan a foreign holiday so Mr O. and I continue to make daytrips trying to forget plans made 18 months ago. The pandemic has taught us to appreciate what we have on our doorstep. Still, I can dream of a sun-drenched beaches as I put on my wellies to do the weeding in our garden. At least the British summer weather is back to the old normal.
