and all I got was this lousy sense of freedom, peace and perspective.
I’m not going into the ins and outs of what’s going on. It’s 24/7, wall to wall, wraparound news.
Like most (lucky enough to have a holiday booked this summer), flights got cancelled, vouchers were provided, numbers were ringing out, alt numbers found, corridors opened, closed, opened and October arrived.
This is not a sob story, it’s not a success story. It’s just a story written of 10 days hiding out from Covid Britain.
Granted it’s Covid Greece. It’s even Covid Greek Island without any documented Covid cases. But you don’t get one without precautions so the usual prevailed.
There’s no moral to this story. Some might argue there’s no point (or indeed punchline).
It’s just an experience of taking two planes there, two back and a whole lot of mask wearing . And given I don’t have to wear PPE to save lives, and just a regular mask, it’s a warm, muggy experience at worst.
I’m lucky. I got a holiday to reschedule in the first place and a family and friends to not see in the first place.
So this is not a sob story, it’s just a telling of taking steps out into the world, the restrictions faced and the freedom found. For 10 days.
I wondered whether I had a right to write about anything with a Covid context – anything other than personal loss feels trite, unimportant.
So it’s not a tale with anything other than a short account of how I felt safe and if you too feel you need to enter into the world (and in a position where the risks are hopefully a little less), follow the rules and enjoy the freedom.
An Uber to the airport – mutual mask wearing, screen fitted, star rated (always ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ – and that one driver who got me down to a 4.91, I know who you are, my map reading skills are woeful, I just couldn’t find you). All good, frequently used since O lockdown lifted.
Manchester Airport. I don’t need Covid restrictions to throw me out of kilter – security does this every single time. This time it was an errant lip balm that caused carnage.
For those who usually sail through the process without drama, keep the facemask on, social distance as per, make sure you’ve filled in the Passenger Locator Form which may, or may not, be looked at. It’s just another thing to check every 40 seconds in life along with your passport, boarding passes and phone.
The plane. I’m never best pleased when flying anyway. Just keep that mask on when not eating and drinking. Literally it. Oh and don’t queue more than two deep for the loo. That’s also it. Literally. And sanitisation wipes.
There’s no social distancing in the seating so as with everything in this pandemic (and indeed life), it’s your choice whether this is for you and what your bottom line is. Right or wrong, my mental health benefitted from being on that plane and with everyone masked up, it was my bag.
My destination brought me indoor mask wearing, hand santisers aplenty, but a whole lot of outdoor living.
The island quiet, the accommodation a private house, this living was easy. But more importantly, Covid commentary free. No aforementioned wall to wall reports and rhetoric, political or otherwise.
Full disclosure – this didn’t stop my partner and I filling in the gaps with our own. Traditionally holidays are when you take stock, make plans, discuss the future. I challenge to do any of this without uttering the C word (plus we were highly engaged and invested with our local mayor taking on the government in our absence).
One good thing – it did give me opportunity to make a dated 80s joke with my Fears for Tiers joke. It didn’t land as well as I’d hoped to be honest but you can’t win ‘em all.
End of season, and not touristy, it was mostly us and the locals. Our 5th visit, we felt more we were living there for 10 days, less ‘holidaying’ and so joined everyone in just…well just doing ‘stuff’.
This is not a sob story, just an account of 10 days away from Covid Britain. A lot of that stuff we did was a whole lot of nothing. A different kind of nothing from the nothing we’d come from and were likely going back to. But a quieter nothing. A lucky nothing.
And so back home, nothing had changed. Well we get upped to high level within hours of touching down, but nothing had changed. Except for a while we were in control and grabbing freedom, if only for a short while. All within the rules and regs.
And it might be worth bearing in mind, if you’re lucky enough to feel physically able. Grab the freedoms where you can find them, follow the rules and…this is not a sob story. Just gratitude to all the industries and people both at home and abroad who are keeping us safe.
If you feel physically well and you can, put your mask on, scan the track and trace QR code, sanitise, socially distance, go out for dinner, to the supermarket, for a walk on the prom, to the pictures, to see your friend in a park.
To Greece for crying out loud.
The mask is not stifling us, it’s the key to freedom, potentially for a while to come.
Also turn the TV off (unless it’s Netflix and American Horror Story, bloody brilliant it is.
Also Stath Lets Flats
Or Channel 4 news).
Live safely, follow the rules but live. And don’t be daft with it for God’s sake.
memoirs of a laura 