I've been really moved by some of the stories on here. What's wrong with feeling the hurt and the pain and the suffering, with grieving, so that in some way a value can be given to socialising, so that it can be seen as something to aspire to, the thing that you look forward to.
And I think it's worth saying that there needs to be a counter narrative too. There is a person living in the next village I live in who is the living incarnation of the "Smiling Jailer" mentality that has spring up. 60ish, financially secure and a former health care worker, they monitor and regularly post on a local website which at the height of restrictions brutalised mental health with paranoia, sanctimoniousness and judgementalism. Never has their self perceived status been higher, and never will it be. It is like they are drunk on the status and control.
You see, for me, the first step in rebuilding a future which is better than the present and maybe even than the past is to look at the things that aren't working, or used to but don't, & think how you want them to be.
I've never been a big festival goer but I have been dreaming about the first proper Glastonbury. One where in whatever form people can really really let themselves go, can really really live. Meet new people, discover new bands, fall in love, create memories.
As for this constant mentioning of "well don't expect things to go back to the way they were, anytime soon, if ever" said in the nagging tone of a parent reminding their child of impending exams, well I don't.
Because when I read the stories here, the stories of isolation, of heartbreak, that awful story about the young woman with Long Covid stuck ill at home, the fact that they may not get the beautiful future they deserve doesn't stop me wanting it, or planning it, or refusing to accept things I would have done before. Like people who take pleasure in deflating other people's bubbles, people who think that because there was a war that ended 76 years ago nobody ever again has the right to mourn for anything or to want anything to be different.
Because I do want things to be different. Radically different. And believe it or not listening to and vocalising these stories of loss is for me the first step in this process.
As for this whole "Glastonbury next year-you'll be lucky" (written with a self-righteous smirk) mentality, the truth is nobody knows what will actually happen. Maybe this latest wave recedes or new drugs appear. Maybe it is crap for a while and then the seesaw breaks and electorates pressurise governments to change approach. Maybe it doesn't change, maybe it gets worse. But I won't ever let the the vacuum of uncertainty be filled with the twin poisons of denial and dread.
I went to a pub last night for the last pee curfew music session. (Yes I went to a pub! And still I'm writing on here about loss and grief and suffering and wanting things to be better...so don't bother with the tirades) At the end the landlord played Fairytale of New York and it felt like an elegy but more than that it felt like a song for the future and how we want it to be. Happy Christmas your arse, I pray God its not our last