Le Lockdown

The entertainment awards season will soon be upon us, with Oscars, BAFTAs and goodness only knows what else being dished out to deserving recipients. This year the shows will be more exciting than usual. Probably. There’s been so little to do that we’ve all watched everything that has been broadcast or streamed. Did you watch that Kurdish cartoon short, Derewîn, te bi tevahî li wê temaşe nekir? Me too! We are all going to have an opinion on an peculiarly wide range of productions.

One film that won’t be nominated is a classic French flick, Le Lockdown. It’s the one we have all, apparently*, participated in. Le Lockdown, a black and white film where everyone smokes and drinks too much. There’s a lot of dodgy background muzak. Once in a while someone snaps angrily at the person nearest them. Nothing actually happens. It’s as disjointed as this blog post. And it goes on and on and on and on. Forever. And ever. And ever. Without end. Like all good French films.

Perhaps that was your experience. Perhaps you’re now smoking a pack of Gauloises a day and eating snails from the garden. But probably not. We’ve all had our own lockdown experiences, some better than other. But few of us have had one quite as dreary as depicted in the media. And quite frankly, Lockdown 2020, from my perspective, was mostly bloody marvellous.

Yes, the initial uncertainty and unknown danger jarred ones nerves at the beginning. And there were a few friends who went down with it, one very seriously. But he made it through. The virus only ever gently grazed the South West of England. This was the least affected part of the country. The sun shone continuously. Mrs P and I had plenty of time off to enjoy long walks across postcard perfect stretches of coastline. We barbecued. We spent the day chillaxing on deserted beaches. We enjoyed life.

Then came Lockdown 2021. The virus rose up in anger once again, and this time the South West took a vicious punch on the nose. And everything turned a little bit to shit, if truth be told. People all around us picked it up. There have been numerous deaths of persons known to us. The most painful being a friend at work and the loss of family in Mexico City. This was less Le Lockdown and closer to an Amityville Lockdown Horror.

Happily, we appear to be edging towards the end of the current set of restrictions. Infections, hospitalisations and deaths are all plummeting. Hopefully, this will be the last lockdown. By the time winter returns, we will all have been offered a double dose of the good stuff from AstraZeneca or Pfizer. We might even be on to a booster jab to cope with new variants.

And until then, I’d be fine with how things were before the latest lockdown. Most things were open. Social distancing, face masks indoors and booked places for everything was perfectly bearable. If theatres can be added to the mix, then hoorah! And truth be told, Mrs P and I rather enjoyed the ‘London Less Crowded’ experience.

So starting next month, we can participate in a new story. A collaborative story which we are all invited to contribute to. One that’s a bit more upbeat and a lot less fatal that the chapter we’re just finishing now. And with a little bit of luck, we can all create a story worthy of an Oscar. That there will be no trophy to show for it is by the by. There’s no award that can match the gift of life.

* people complain about how negative the tabloids are. But let’s not forget how this works. The readers pay the tabloids for the very specific purpose of publishing misery on a daily basis. It’s what they want, it’s what they get. Good and hard.