Tomorrow is the day.

 Tomorrow is the day. 

It could be said that tomorrow is the day when Covid 19 finally becomes history or whatever your interpretation of that word may be. It should mark the end of the most horrific, traumatic, harrowing, disturbing, distressing and unnerving period of our lives. Maybe now we can live again or just get on with the business of living for the day, week, month and year without looking over our shoulders and trying to analyse the global calamity, the immensity of death, the fatalities, casualties or those ailing rapidly. 

For the last two years the hellish uncertainty of it all, the dithering and scientific graphs and datas, the regrettable decisions made in the heat of the moment and then yet more lockdowns, began to haunt and daunt us, throwing us into a state of utter turmoil and mentally challenging us all the way. Then there were the gloom and doom merchants who seemed to make no sense at any time, the naysayers and the cynics who were convinced the world was coming to an end. 

There were the visits to Trafalgar Square when you were suddenly surrounded by a concrete world of silence, subdued whispers and the pigeons who used to be the centre of attention, now wondering exactly why humanity had deserted them. It was the middle of the first lockdown and you were brave enough to venture into the West End of London. It was a heart wrenching moment, significant in as much that you would never have imagined that things could ever come to this pass. So you wandered around Charing Cross, the heart of the musical instrument and old books industry. It felt, quite frankly, soul destroying. 

But tomorrow all the medical data and science, the combined forces of Boris Johnson and his UK government will kick in properly, declaring outright freedom, no more masks anymore, no more procrastination, feet dragging and the confirmation of your liberties. Now, since we live in a democracy most of us must have assumed that was always the case anyway. It goes like this. Tomorrow you can run up to Piccadilly Circus, run around Eros a million times, leaping up and down with joy and announcing that happy days are here again, the skies above are clear again. Happy days are here again. 

Now though as from tomorrow, you can exercise your judgment and your responsibility, allowing discretion to become the better part of valour. And yet we are now we are told, quite patronisingly, that we should live with Covid 19. This is where you begin to think that stating the obvious is not the message we should be listening to now. It almost feels as though the Government have just been  sleepwalking through this disaster, content to address the nation with heartfelt pronouncements without quite grasping the full extent of what was going on around them. 

So what can we expect from tomorrow's latest set of Covid developments? Maybe we'll get another series of warm words of sympathy from Mr Johnson, a softly spoken and comforting speech and a general sense of wild optimism. Alternatively you could still feel as though that the prison warden has partially opened up your cell but you're still on remand. Now you'll have forgive to me but this is the road we thought we'd travelled down and found our destination. 

Back on July 19th last year Britain re-opened up its commercial powerhouses: overnight the cafes, restaurants, shops, fashion shops, shoe shops, organic cafes, Pret A Mangers, Costas, Marks and Spencer, John Lewis, Prime Marks, fruit and vegetable stalls, theatres and cinemas threw open their doors. In short Britain came back to life, resuscitated and revitalised, breathing, living, integrated back into a world that we must have thought had gone for ever.  

But then came new variants such as Delta, Kent and latterly Omicron, genuine obstacles, complications, nightmares, another crisis, a nasty blot on the landscape. Roughly a year ago we were still trapped at the bottom of a metaphorical well, crying out for help and just counting the thousands of fatalities every day. Things had to reach a turning point and they did. The definitive vaccines had arrived and, quite dramatically, this was the remedy, the ultimate antidote, the life saver. 

A charming, elderly Irish woman sat down in a hospital and became the first person to receive the very first vaccine. It was all systems go. Nothing could stand in our way. A vast, comprehensive vaccination programme was revealed and rolled out to a disbelieving and yet relieved British population. For the rest of last year every person within the British isles was required to undergo the first part of this operation. Your first jab was just the beginning and several months you'd have to do it all over again. 

By now we were on cloud nine, barely able to take in the sheer magnitude of this stunning breakthrough. Then towards the end of the year we were told just how proud we should feel about themselves. You had now developed sufficient protection against the outbreak of another Covid 19 episode. So well done everybody. Even Boris thinks you're a credit to you and your family. So here we are almost two years down the line and surely there can be no room for caution, obstacles or changing of minds. 

Tomorrow should be very much the finishing line of this particularly gruelling marathon. At times we probably thought we'd never get there. But we have and the medals should be awarded immediately and don't forget that huge bottle of champagne. Tomorrow masks will no longer be considered compulsory but advisable which does sound pretty ominous, neither here nor there. Thankfully we won't have to wait outside chemists for ages just to pick up a prescription and when we board a train or bus nobody will look as though they've just returned from a hospital operating theatre. 

Of course the moral obligations and imperatives will remain but there are those who simply can't wait to be liberated from their masks once and for all. Boris Johnson, of course, the British Prime Minister, has muddled and looked befuddled from the very first day of lockdown. Recently his life, if you were to believe some, has been one big party, raving into the small hours of the morning. Sadly, Johnson did conveniently forget about the laws and regulations he had just implemented. Of course he didn't tell the truth because he did quite openly apologise for any inconvenience his birthday and other jolly beanos that were clearly in breach of his own laws. 

Still, life goes on at 10 Downing Street and although Johnson still stands accused and guilty of misdemeanours. It is safe to assume that the blond one from Uxbridge and educated at Eton will just get away with these sorry tales of woe. In mitigation Mr Johnson will insist that he had no idea that the said parties had been organised without his permission. So he strolled into a Downing Street garden and just joined in with the cheese and wine festivities while not forgetting the substantial crates of beer also consumed. It's a very good excuse but you get the impression that it just doesn't hold any water. 

And this could be the last and most crucial point in the Prime Minister's defence. Nobody but nobody died as a result of Boris's involvement in these pub lock ins. Everybody though was still smirking including the woman who just kept giggling her head off when the flak came flying at her. Then there was the Tory backbencher who, jumping to the defence of Boris Johnson, came out with the ridiculous claim that even a Prime Minister was allowed to eat cake on the day of his birth. It goes way beyond laughable and risible. 

But here we are on the eve of the big day, counting down the hours and eagerly anticipating the day of the proper release from the wearing of masks of any description, no more weeks of self isolation even if you've got a stinking cold and find yourselves surrounded by handkerchiefs. Covid 19 will officially be condemned to history, null and void tomorrow or will it?  All of these special moments in our lives are beginning to get lost in any kind of translation. Still, it's as good a time as any to live with Covid 19 because it doesn't seem to be going away for quite a while. Keep well folks.