Covid Freedom Day is of course an echoing empty phrase. It makes it sound like we’ve all been locked away on Robben Island for 27 years and are at last stepping blinking out into the dawn of a new spring day.
That’s not what it’s been like.
Cafes, pubs, football stadia and planes in and out of Scotland have been various levels of busy for weeks and months now as we’ve struggled back towards normal from the final Omicron shutdown.
And we won’t all be downing shots at Fatty’s dressed in our Union Jack FREEDOM DAY merch when the big day comes and the last of the Covid restrictions are lifted.
This is a more sombre success, but we should still mark it.
There are people to mourn. There are people to care for who have been physically reduced by the illness.
And there are many friends and neighbours brought to dire straits by the isolation and stress of the last two years.
Pals in the NHS are traumatised and are all needing about a year off and some counselling.
Then there’s myself and the many others who have just got a bit weird through lack of socialising.
We’ll be awkward for a bit. Bear with us.
A lot can happen in two years
This pandemic has put tremendous strain on us all.
But the vast majority of us have come through the worst of a pretty terrible time.
Our country, our cities, our communities are sort of, more or less intact.
We haven’t lost the nut and overthrown Holyrood; we’ve not rioted; we’ve not overwhelmed the hospitals.
We’re not in the position that we left 2019 in, perhaps. But things could be a lot worse.
We have got through it. Things can start to get meaningfully easier.
Well done.
As the final restrictions are set to be phased out, it feels like a natural time to reflect.
Scotland's legal Covid restrictions, including the wearing of face coverings, will end on 21 March https://t.co/rxDBhD1eK8
— BBC Breaking News (@BBCBreaking) February 22, 2022
On how they were interpreted and how they were enforced.
And on which ones bothered us more than others.
When restriction leads to friction
Dundee, if we’re honest, had a rump of folk who didnae really take to the restrictions that well.
We were often top of the pops in the Covid charts in Scotland, possibly because we struggled to keep ourselves to ourselves.
Restrictions caused frictions between friends and strangers alike.
A pal humorously had a couple of major incidents.
He was in B&M at the end of the Cleppy Road, browsing, when a woman pushed in front of him to a shelf and grabbed a few things.
My pal said “Hey sorry, do you mind keeping your social distance?”
So she called him a p***k.
As my pal later queued at the tills, the same woman went to pass again.
“AH WATCH OOT”, she bellowed for all to hear, “THIS P***K NEEDS HIS SOCIAL DISTANCE”, the last two words dripping with ridicule.
Other shoppers snickered. He took a beamer behind his mask.
Another time an old boy asked him oot to the car park for a square go in a similar situation.
In Scotland this week and in complete awe for how respectful & compliant people are here with social distancing rules + face mask wearing. Same 🇬🇧 country, different nations, worlds apart. Way to go if we want to beat #COVID19 at once @scotgov @devisridhar! 👏🏻 🏴
— Diogo Martins (@dcorreiamartins) October 26, 2021
Like, got right up in his grill saying he was needing battered, just cause he asked for some space.
The end to these restrictions means an end to these tensions, which is nice.
Vaccine certificates were a bit of a joke
Covid Freedom Day also means an end of vaccine certificates, and very soon, the end of compulsory masks.
Vaccine certificates were always my least liked measure. I only used mine once.
“One in two boys, one in every two,” the security supervisor at Tannadice called out.
His shouts were heeded by the hi-vis workers tasked with checking the vaccine certification of half the crowd.
I was shuffling along in a turnstile queue of maybe a dozen. I had a screenshot of the pdf of my vaccine status.
“You got your certificate there?” one hi vis mannie asked.
I went to hold up my screen. He nodded before so much as glancing at it and went on to “check” the next person in the queue.
I could have had a picture of myself in a bikini up on screen instead of the NHS confirmation and it would’ve worked just as well.
I never used it in Scotland, aside from that circumstance. What a stupid system.
What place for masks after Covid Freedom Day?
Some hate masks.
A teacher friend says masks in classrooms are a nightmare. They muffle the already tiny little voices of the young, making them impossible to comprehend from the front of the front of the room.
The masks also partially anonymise the pupils, making it harder to provide individual teaching.
I quite like them. It means I can walk about grumpy with my puss tripping me and no one’s the wiser.
I also liked getting table service in all pubs as a matter of course.
The online booking systems for barbers and cafes was absolutely class. It saved a mountain of time.
As the restrictions ease, I have some concern about how those with clinical vulnerabilities are coping.
There’s a lot of you about, and this must be an anxious time. The rest of us have a duty to exercise our freedoms in a considerate way.
We’re through the worst of it though. Covid Freedom Day beckons.
And we did it together.
Well done aabdy. Gold stars all round.
