I don’t know how you all feel about this, but the image I had in my head of what life would be like once restrictions were lifted slightly this week in the UK – isn’t quite matching the reality. I saw myself with a diary full of catch-up coffees, lunches in the sunshine, evenings sitting eating inside a noisy pub, and weekends gathered at friend’s houses for BBQs, beer and bear hugs. However, not only has the weather been pants (we were very spoiled last year – yes, there was a deadly virus circulating the globe, but hey – the sun shone); but I think I have spent so long cooped up in my little bubble that I have forgotten the art of socialisation. I feel I have had my bike stabilisers taken off too soon – instead of confidently freewheeling, the wind in my hair, legs akimbo, whooping at my new-found freedom – I am wobbling around a bit, not quite sure, eager to step off and just have a little sit down.
It’s not socialisation I am wary of per se. I am happy to meet for a walk or a coffee with my friends or spend time in the company of a select few over a glass of wine and dinner. It’s everyone else. The other humans. Whether they are pushing past me in the supermarket or coming up too close to fuss my dog in the park – I feel these random strangers are invading my private space. I’ve spoken to friends about this, and I am not the only one feeling a bit uncomfortable with it all. I am sure once the weather improves and we benefit from some sunshine and finally kick start our summer, I will get back into the swing of things, and be happy for other people’s children to not look where they are going and run full pelt into me down an aisle in Dunelm. (Just an aside here – pandemic or no pandemic keep your kids on a leash please). I just think at the moment, I have spent so long communicating with people via zoom, telephone or FaceTime, or physically standing so far away from them I can’t see their facial expression without the aid of my glasses - that I am out of practice and have completely forgotten what to do when faced with a real human. Or a group of humans.
Over the various lockdowns all I did was crave those big squishy hugs from friends, but now we can officially embrace it doesn’t feel right somehow. Do I go left or right? Their left or mine? Was it always one kiss or two? Can’t remember. I’m either coming across as very standoffish offering my handshake or feel like an awkward teenager trying to negotiate a kiss without bumping noses. Or, alternately, I turn into a blubbering mess as the hormones melt and I realise what it means to finally get a great big squeeze from a true friend. I wasn’t like this back Before Covid. Back then I would happily lunge into complete strangers I had only just been introduced to, and air-kiss countless colleagues at packed work social functions. However, I feel as human contact was something that was denied to us all for so long, hugs have more meaning to me now and I want to ration them – save them only for my nearest and dearest. Hugs are too precious to be handed out willy-nilly anymore.
It is hard to remember really what it was like BC. Not that long ago some of us would be thrust into the depths of a mosh-pit at a gig, or queue shoulder to shoulder at loud crowded bars striking up conversation indiscriminately, mouth to ears close up and intimate with any old odd ball you happen to be standing by. Or file out of busy theatres and cinemas with hundreds of other people, impatiently waiting your turn to squeeze through the one small exit. And although I hated the Tube in London, the only thing I worried about when standing with someone’s armpit stuck in my face on a crammed commuter train, was whether we would all get stuck in a tunnel and spark off one of my panic attacks– not catching a deadly virus from a sneezing stranger. To be honest, the thought of going back to that level of human contact, that level of normal, makes me very wary. I fear I have lost the social skills I spent nearly 50 years perfecting and fear they may not come back.
I wonder when I will start to feel confident about boarding a busy bus or getting on a plane again? All that pushing and shoving is going to return. And when will I stop inwardly tutting as people WALK PAST the hand sanitiser at Sainsbury’s? And as much as I want to see smiles on other people's faces when mask wearing is no longer mandatory, will I ever feel comfortable sitting in a doctor's waiting room again watching others sniff and cough into soggy tissues? Will we ever go back to how we were, or will we adapt to the new normal as the world did after the 9/11 atrocity? Remember air travel pre 2001? Flying was quite enjoyable. We would happily saunter through airport security, chatting away with bottles of water in hand, toothpaste in hand-luggage, shoes firmly laced, wallets in pockets, joking with security as they moved us through with a smile and a wave. Sometimes we were patted down and asked whether we had packed our own bags, quite often not. We have gotten so used to the stringent airport security now - undoing our belts and taking off shoes, shuffling through machines that go beep as we hold trousers up with one hand and force toiletries into those tiny see-through bags with the other- that it has become an anxious, unpleasant task ruining the start of even the most luxurious of holidays. I bet it is going to be even worse now as we have to show paperwork for vaccinations or negative tests and convince sullen passport control officers that yes, that is me under this mask.
For now, I am going to take this period slowly. I feel I need to be gradually introduced to busyness again and get used to other people’s hustle and bustle. Re-learn the habits of humans. Perhaps I should be entering this tentative stage wearing one of those green probationary ‘P’ plates new drivers use when they first pass their tests to warn others to be cautious. “Hi! I’m new to this. Bear with me. I’m still finding my feet and not quite sure of the direction I need”.
Yes, I think I’ll get one of those.
© The Real Tilly Fairfax
