I quite liked COVID. Well, as far as I am aware, I never actually had it. If I had, I am sure I would have hated it.
But I did quite like the COVID times. Lots of good things happened. I learned how to use Zoom, for example. This completely changed my working life. No longer would I have to travel for miles to conduct interviews or sit with the phone jammed under my chin while taking notes with a broken pencil. No. Now, I can just invite whoever I like to a meeting and, as if my magic, they appear in my office, in glorious science-fiction Technicolor. Marvellous!
We live in a cul-de-sac (a dead end some might say). During COVID, as it was forbidden to have any contact outside the family, we set up a WhatsApp group for our little cluster of neighbours. If anyone ran out of something vital, and couldn’t get to the shops, someone else would stealthily creep across the road and leave it on their doorstep. Very neighbourly. We still have our group today. It’s become an indispensable communication allowing us to help each other in ways we would never have thought of before.
From that my wife started a book club. Virtual at first but now a monthly excuse to have a glass or two of something lovely while engaging in literary discussion. Some might even think we know what we are talking about – but then again, no.
So yes. Lots of good came from those rather strange months when the whole world was on pause. But there is one feature that didn’t continue, which is a shame. Every week, on a Wednesday evening, about 7:30pm, we would fire up the laptop and, with the help of Zoom, would have a soiree with our friends. We’d share a bottle of wine and challenge each other in a pub quiz, usually of our own devising. It was two hours of laughter around familiar faces, at a time when there was little of either elsewhere. We could do it now of course. But then again, no we couldn’t. It doesn’t work now. Why? Because everyone is too damn busy.
During COVID nobody had anything to do or anywhere to go so, if you did have a brilliant idea, everyone was available, all the time. “What are you doing on Saturday night?” “Nothing, just like last week, and the week before.” Organising a party, online, was dead easy. Nobody ever had anywhere to go.
By contrast, I have been trying to get three of my friends, and their brides, around for dinner for weeks. Of course, we can’t do anything now until September because my wife’s business is too busy (she looks after people’s dogs while they are on holiday). So that’s three months written off. Then our friends are away, because they are all retired and don’t want to go when all the young families with kids are away because it’s too noisy and twice the price. So that’s blown October out too.
November is looking good, but the first Saturday is Rob’s son’s birthday so he can’t make it. The second sees Peter’s mother coming out of hospital after an operation and he can’t leave her. The third Saturday is the only day when Matt’s goldfish can wash its hair so he can’t possibly get away. You get the idea. The simple task of getting four couples together for an evening’s chat, a decent bottle of Bordeaux and a slice of Beef Wellington is a task far beyond the wit of a simple chap like me. I even asked Copilot if it could help, as it seems to be able to do everything else, but all it did was offer to draft me an invitation letter … which I can probably manage myself. I am currently looking at possible dates in February, but I suspect it will be snowed off anyway.
So you see, COVID wasn’t much fun for many people, but it did have its compensations. Ironically, while we were not allowed to meet, we saw much more of each other. We could also plan with confidence in the sound knowledge that, barring being struck down by the virus itself, everyone who had promised to do something, would do it.
That’s my rant over for this month. I’m now looking forward to our next book club meeting. When is it? The 13th? Oh, I think we are away.