Days away from the beginning of a New Year. The Ashes again.

 Days away from the beginning of a New Year. The Ashes again.

So here we are days away from the beginning of a New Year and still we find ourselves lost in a maze of conflicting statements, muddled thinking, mind blowing obfuscation and neither here nor there. In the months following the lifting of the nationwide lockdown on July 19 it looked as though we'd got it all sorted out, that everything would be plain sailing, mum and dad, family, grandparents and siblings all  able to successfully resume the conversation they thought they would somehow take ages to find again after the sorrow and heartache experienced since March 2020.

From July 19 onwards we could finally hook up with each other, re-wire those communication lines, enjoy a slap up, lavish four course meal in a Toby Carvery restaurant and drink yourselves into an inebriated stupor without feeling any of the pangs of conscience we thought we would. But then there followed a delayed reaction, a horrible knot in the pit of our stomachs, doubts, reservations, freedom to some extent denied but then a sudden realisation that somebody had turned the light off again. Or had they?

There was a period of calm, slow recovery, gradual improvement, normality, clarity, assurance and, in some cases, of stubborn defiance. Besides, we weren't going to allow anything to get us down again or stop us from celebrating. To that end, we could once again frequent cinemas, watch movies, eat popcorn, watch those spellbinding West End musicals in historic theatres and then just abandon ourselves to all those good feelings we must have taken great pleasure from quite profoundly and wished we could feel again. 

As things stand out at the moment the New Year could be a watershed moment in all of our lives. We could be back among us again and not worried about the re-percussions of our actions. We won't have to be scared witless if we so much as hold out a hand and attempt a full blooded and civilised shake. We'll stand in the same room as family or friends dinner parties without feeling the cold, hard stare of some bureaucratic dogsbody trying to tell us that if we so much as come anywhere near each other the full force of law and order will nab us for a thorough interrogation in a draughty police cell. 

Yesterday my wife and yours truly tried to visit my lovely father in law in hospital. We were told quite categorically that only one person would be allowed into the hospital because two would constitute a medical disaster. The fact is that the new Omicron is sweeping across the whole of Britain like a gusty gale force. wintry wind. Now Omicron is the latest variant on the coronavirus, which is essentially a variation on a now annoying theme. How much longer can this devastating disease last for? And yet yesterday it succeeded in antagonising the relatives of a family who just wanted to see a very close and much loved member of the family. 

In a sense the lockdown that should have been lifted back in July now seems to be only partially open. Sure, you can exercise in your local gym and there can be no complaints. But tonight Prime Minister Boris Johnson will announce the latest bulletin from Covid 19 headquarters and we know what we might get. No news is good news as they say but how on earth will the nation respond if we all have to shut up shop again, stay indoors for an interminable length of time and only pop out for a loaf of bread, milk and lamb chops if we're allowed to do so. 

Meanwhile in Australia, our dear English cricket team are once again in a complete state of disarray. The thought occurs to you that, sending an English representation to the other side of the world in the depths of winter is now just a futile exercise. We all love the Ashes, that now centuries old battle royale between England and Australia. But realistically an England pilgrimage to our Aussie friends a couple of days after the Christmas Day TV afternoon film, has now been rendered almost redundant by the powers that be and technically superior opposition. 

It almost seems like a coincidence that the current England team should be facing their fierce rivals Australia against a backdrop of sadness and emotional poignancy. Ray Illingworth, former England cricket captain, yesterday died at the age of 89 and 52 years ago led the national team to victory in Australia for the first time in ages. Illingworth was a morally correct, reliable, tactically thorough figure who always rolled up his sleeves quite determinedly and finally beat the Aussies at their own game. 

Illingworth, who apart from delivering yeoman service to his native Yorkshire and then, quite brilliantly, Leicestershire, was one of the game's diligent trundlers, shirt sleeves billowing in the breeze, and then in a windmill of arms, shoulders and fingers he would hop, skip and jump his way to the crease with spin bowling that nipped back off the seam, swinging sharply one way before suddenly moving into a batsman's pads and bat the other. Illingworth's spin had deception, mystery and cleverness in its execution. 

But now in Australia, England have another born and bred Yorkshireman as skipper for the duration of the Ashes. Joe Root is also another who will not leave any stone unturned. You feel sure that Root has done more than enough research on the Aussies. At the moment, though, England are toiling and sweating in the Aussie heat. They are 2-0 down and the series seems over and out but then England do have the match winning class of Ben Stokes in their ranks and Jos Buttler to buttress the attack. Jimmy Anderson could yet come up trumps with a lethal spell of bowling to terrorise and leave the opposition gasping for air. 

The fact is though that some of us are much more concerned with what should be far more important considerations. We are not quite in critical territory here but if the Prime Minister does announce that doom laden, portentous speech later on today then he could have a riot on his hands. There is no hint of a major insurrection yet but if Boris Johnson decides to lock up the country and throw away the key, then it could all get very ugly and unruly. Still, it could go the other way and who knows, 2022 could turn into one long conga. Ladies and Gentlemen, prepare for the best.