OPINION: Is it time to unmask for the sake of normality?

The worst restrictions imposed upon us by a leader who appears to be unable to abide by them himself will soon be no more, thank heavens, but I find it profoundly depressing to see so many people still wearing face masks, even in the street. Â

The legal compulsion to wear them outside clinical settings has been lifted. Does, for some, the reluctance to liberate themselves from masks suggest a nagging scepticism of the rapidly developed vaccines’ efficacy? Â

The government has encouraged everyone to get a dose of the life-saving serum, and that should signal freedom from uncomfortable facial coverings. Â

One explanation could be that, in the main, people prefer conformity rather than stick out as rebellious individuals. At a garden centre I visited last Sunday, virtually everyone’s face was covered, and all were distancing themselves from fellow shoppers. Â

Minutes later, they were bunched up together in the restaurant, unmasked, and clearly relieved to be so. Thankfully, the pandemic is in its final stages, and the government’s daily Coronavirus dashboard records a devoutly to be wished decline in case numbers. They’re tumbling by the thousand. Â

It wasn’t surprising, though, to see our national harbinger of doom, the BBC’s saturnine newscaster Huw Edwards, appearing almost disappointed when announcing a drop in fatalities. It is almost as though the media wants this miserable episode to last indefinitely, and thus provide a continuous stream of gloom and anxiety, the two most indispensable ingredients of broadcast news. Â

Our country will, in time. accommodate this disease, as it does all other viruses, otherwise an obsessional regime of health and safety precautions might kick in each time an outbreak of colds and flu troubles us. Â

Our once-robust national characteristic of stalwart resistance to menace and threat has relegated itself into a culture so steeped in fear, exaggerated caution and risk aversion, that we are no longer astonished to learn of schools banning conkers in order to avoid eye injuries. Instead, we shrug our shoulders at these reported absurdities. Â

Conditioning such as this should raise alarm bells. As the Holocaust is commemorated, we lament how millions of innocent Germans, unaware of their government’s intentions, shrugged their shoulders as the rounding up and transportation of Jews took place in the background of the routine banality of life. Â

But I digress. Personally, my evangelical faith in both the Astrazeneca and Pfizer jabs has convinced me that I have acquired virtual invulnerability to both Mr. Covid and his ghastly nephew, Omicron. What’s more, I’m looking forward to my imminent fourth inoculation, especially as they make such a fuss of me at the Leisure Centre. Â

As a cancer drug guinea pig, I leapfrog that long, snaking airport style queue endured by worthy souls waiting in the rain. Like my fellow countrymen, sorry, countrypersons, I believe queues to be inviolably sacrosanct, and the jumping thereof a cardinal sin subordinate only to murder. Â

Surging ahead of others made me feel as conspicuous as a pork pie in a vegan restaurant, and I wished I’d brought a balaclava rather than a mask. Nevertheless, having suffered Covid twice, I have no desire to acquire it again, unless it conveniently coincides with some tedious obligation, one that might be a blessed relief to avoid. Â

I suspect that mask wearing has, for some, become as habitual as wearing a watch. My late Uncle Ted insisted upon carrying his gas mask with him long after the war had ended, even taking it into the cab of the London Transport bus he drove. Â

It had become an OCD fetish, comparable to the fear of our mobile phone being out of reach. I’ve binned most of my masks, although they do make handy wing-mirror covers that prevent glass frosting up overnight. Top tip! Â

GRATE EXPECTATIONSÂ

In an age during which the climate change issue hovers over us, am I risking heresy in suggesting that we exploit our huge coal reserves to supplement our energy use? Â

Britain is now critically dependent on overseas sources for its fuel, and an invasion of Ukraine might lead to shortages. Britain’s households have just been rocked by a 54% hike in the price of heating bills, and there’s no guarantee they will not rise further. Â

At the Big Pit, in Blaenavon, an ex-miner told me that the closed Welsh colliery holds more coal than has ever been burned, and there remains another 300 years’ supply. Power station carbon capture is the solution; it’s expensive but effective. Â

What is more cheering than a pub’s roaring fire in the grate? And why would anyone want to suffer the irony of fretting about global warming as they shiver in thermal underwear, whilst risking hypothermia in a freezing home?  Â