Living With Covid

Government policy in England is now that we live with covid. If the success of that policy is measured by the number of people who are indeed living with it – that is to say, they have covid – then it has been a remarkable success.

One in thirteen people in England had covid during the week to 19^th March, that’s a whopping 4.9 million people, a record number for the pandemic.

When the next set of weekly figures are released, I would guess that that the number will be even higher. In all, there have been 21.2 million cases of covid in the UK since the pandemic began and the number of people we know who have it will soon be greater than those who have not. You'll be a member of a minority group if you haven’t had it. At present I know of more people who have covid, or who have recently had it, than at any time since the pandemic began in March 2020.

It came as little surprise to me that, after two years of successfully dodging covid, I succumbed a week or so ago, and I have a pretty good idea where and when I picked it up.

I first thought that I had something on Friday 25^th March, when I woke up with a sore throat. Whenever I get a cold, it starts with a sore throat, and I had a cold a few weeks ago that started with a dodgy throat. That cold was the mildest I can remember, but I had taken the precaution of doing a lateral flow test then, which had been negative.

On this particular Friday I was keen not to be positive as in the evening I was due to see Genesis at The O2. Having paid a princely sum for my ticket, and having had the show cancelled twice already, it was with some trepidation that I dropped the fluid into the LFT device, and waited. To my enormous relief, it came back negative, although I was quite probably positive already. Apart from the sore throat, which abated during the day, I felt perfectly fine.

I apologise profusely to anyone I may have I passed covid on to at The O2; clearly I must have had it, because the following morning, when I took another LFT, it came back positive.

The next step was to book a PCR test – a week later and that would have been more difficult, since free LFTs and PCRs have now been withdrawn, and all the testing centres have closed. Donald Trump was rightly ridiculed at the start of the pandemic when he said that the only reason the USA had record case numbers was because they were doing more tests than anyone, and our government seems to have taken that view on board – make it harder for people to test, and watch the case numbers tumble (or not, it seems).

Booking a PCR was simple, and half an hour after logging on to the government website, I’d booked a test, driven there, taken the test, and driven home again. Twenty four hours later I got an email – the PCR was positive, which was no surprise.

By any measure, I have been lucky. On the Saturday I was blowing hot and cold, had a sore throat, and a cough, and felt a bit weary, a bit like a cold.

Over the next few days, the sore throat abated, I felt less weary, and the only real symptom was the occasional cough. Unlike coughs I’ve had with colds, this one at least did not keep me awake. Not actually feeling tired did that. Sleeping was fitful to say the least. Overall, the symptoms have been very mild, for which, I thank the vaccines.

Unfortunately, having covid coal boxed things that I had planned. A recording of the BBC show, The Infinity Monkey Cage, and concerts by Simple Minds and 10CC all had to be missed.

Nine days after the original LFT, and I’m still coming up positive. I need two consecutive days with negative LFTs before I can officially stop isolating, but the NHS app says that I can stop on 5^th April, which is likely to be earlier (just), anyway.

I reckon that I caught covid at the Backyard Comedy Club in Bethnal Green on 22^nd March when I saw Paul Sinha’s radio show being recorded (see The Perfect Pub Quiz). Hardly anyone wore a mask at the venue, very few did on the trains and tubes going there and back.

The Backyard Comedy Club is owned by Lee Hurst, an outspoken critic of vaccinations, lockdowns and masks; the irony that I probably caught covid there is not lost on me. While Hurst is entitled to his views, I am sure that without the vaccine I would have been much more ill; had everyone at his venue worn masks, I probably would not have caught covid anyway.

Hurst is not alone in his opposition to masks. Many others are frequently on radio and TV repeatedly expressing similar views, some on the basis that masks don’t do any good; some believe that masks are a tool of government to control us. I am in favour of their continued use in some settings; public transport, shops, theatres, or indoor settings where people are in close proximity. It cannot be coincidence that case numbers have surged since mask mandates were relaxed.

Masks aren’t effective, some people say. I wonder, do those people use tissues, or handkerchiefs when they sneeze or cough? If so, why? If a mask doesn’t stop transmission, what use is a crumpled piece of Kleenex? Frankly, why not just sneeze in other people’s faces?

If masks are no use, then presumably, this age old advice can be ignored?

I confess that I have been wearing masks less since the rules were relaxed – there’s a sort of peer pressure, I suppose – and I now think that I was wrong to do so. To that extent, catching covid is possibly my own fault.

No matter how careful we are, the relaxation of restrictions, concomitant with a more transmissible strain means more and more people becoming infected. The degree to which they fall ill will depend on a number of variables, but there can be no doubt that if the percentage of infected people becoming seriously ill and possibly requiring hospital treatment remains unchanged, the actual number of people falling into those groups will continue to climb.

The herd immunity strategy proposed by the government in March 2020 was quickly discredited and dropped, but given that at that time it was held that it would be achieved once 60% of the population had become infected, increasing case numbers mean we seem to have readopted the policy, albeit by inertia.

Whatever the policy – and government seems not to have any sort of proactive covid policy at all now – we have without doubt reached the point where covid is regarded in much the same way as the common cold.

How appropriate a course of action this is for the unvaccinated or for the immunosuppressed remains to be seen: I have my doubts.

 

 

 

Proper Fans

What is a ‘proper’ football fan? There’s no true definition, and the meaning that I attribute to the expression has changed over the years.

At one time I would have said that to be a proper fan, someone had to go to as many games as possible. Few reasons could legitimately excuse the devoted fan from missing a home game – births, deaths, and marriages might be acceptable reasons, but few others – and they should see as many away games as humanly possible.

The Anfield Kop, some time in the 1960s

It isn’t necessary to buy memorabilia and match programmes to be a proper fan (in fact, sometimes it’s the fan of the more fair-weather variety that indulges in mass buying of replica kits and the like), but the real supporter should emotionally invest themselves completely in their team. Not for them the shrug of the shoulders after a defeat. Losses must be accompanied by an all-encompassing depression; victories must be celebrated euphorically.

The days when such people were in the majority on the terraces at football grounds up and down the country are gone. They exist in smaller numbers – especially outside the top levels of the game – but for most, their relationship with the game has changed.

How today's football fans are seen, especially by advertisers 

Before 1992, when the Premier League came into being and Sky changed the face of football broadcasting forever, most football supporters would see their team play only rarely if they relied on watching them on TV, hence the belief I held then that a proper fan was one who went to the majority of their team’s matches.

Clive Allen (left), and Richard Keys, debuting on Sky's Premier League coverage in 1992

When BBC’s Match of The Day and ITV’s regional football shows broadcast highlights of just a few games each week, even fans of clubs like Arsenal, Manchester United, and Liverpool might see their teams briefly a couple of times a month. Live football broadcasts were confined to the FA Cup Final and an international or two; it was difficult to be an armchair supporter.

At the same time, going to games rarely involved getting a ticket in advance. By and large, it was turn up on a Saturday afternoon, pay cash at the turnstile, and watch the game.

And games universally kicked off at the same time, on the same day, each week: 3pm on Saturdays, 7.30pm in midweek. While it’s true that fans were not really nurtured by clubs, they weren’t disrespected either. With little income other than match day revenue – no big broadcasting deals pre-Sky, no shirt sponsorship before the mid-1970s – clubs really needed the fans through the gates in numbers.

Coronavirus restrictions requiring games to be played behind closed doors has demonstrated that from the perspective of the atmosphere at games, fans are much missed; but financially, do clubs need them?

Liverpool in action behind closed doors at Anfield

A BBC study showed that during the 2016-17 season, half of the clubs in the Premier League would have turned a profit without any fans at their games. In 2017-18, Manchester City's revenue grew to £500.5 million. Of that, £56.7 million was generated by matchday income, £232.3 million was commercial income, and £211.5 million came from broadcasters.

So, are supporters in stadiums becoming less important? Manchester City have recently announced that 1,100 seats are being removed at The Etihad to make way for more advertising boards, a decision that speaks volumes on that score.

The degree to which Premier League clubs value their supporters may be gauged by their reaction to fans being allowed back into stadiums as the season draws to a close. Burnley were not charging fans for their game against Liverpool, but at the other end of the spectrum, Spurs fans had to stump up £60 to watch their team play Aston Villa.

Fans in grounds have seemingly become less and less important since 1992. Match days and kick-off times changed to accommodate TV viewers rather than fans who actually go to games. There have been plenty of complaints over the years from travelling fans who either have to leave home in the middle of the night for a lunchtime kick-off, or find that getting home is nigh on impossible after a long-distance evening game. Now that the Premier League has the taste for even more eccentric scheduling to accommodate TV coverage of behind closed doors games, will we ever see a return to the more orthodox football calendar? I wouldn’t bet on it.

When a European Super League was proposed in April, Uefa must have been delighted on two fronts. Firstly, it detracted from their almost simultaneous announcement of changes to the Champions League format, changes which many were opposed to, but which got lost in the furore about the Super League. Secondly, it allowed Uefa – along with the broadcasters - to occupy the moral high ground over the rights of fans, ground they have subsequently lost with a couple of asinine moves.

With Istanbul ruled out as the venue of the Champions League final because of coronavirus for the second season running, the logical venue for a match between two English clubs – Chelsea and Manchester City – would have been a ground in England. But, no, the game has been moved to Portugal, and although coronavirus limits the attendance to 20,000 (just under 50% of the stadium’s capacity), up to 12,000 fans of the finalists will travel from England to Portugal. Surely this is unwise under the circumstances, even if Portugal is currently a ‘green list’ country.

On top of that, Uefa have reduced the capacity at many stadiums hosting games in Euro2020, thus limiting the ability of real fans - who are losing their seats in ballots -  to attend those games, while continuing to sell hideously expensive hospitality packages to their corporate customers.

In England, the broadcasters’ solidarity with fans evaporated even more quickly, with the announcement that teams that play in Champions League matches scheduled for Wednesday evenings will have their weekend Premier League matches moved to 7.45pm on Saturday nights.

The ill-fated Super League announcement introduced a new expression - legacy fans. These are traditional supporters, the locals who turn up week in, week out, through thick and thin, putting their hard-earned cash into buying tickets and merchandise, and their heart and soul into supporting their teams. These fans are not now regarded by some clubs behind the Super League concept as their core fanbase.

The fans that these clubs are more interested in don’t go to the games – they are not necessarily located in the same country as the team they support – but they support the club by consuming the product through electronic devices and that doesn’t even necessarily mean watching full-length games, but highlights, clips, and other material on their phones and tablets.

No wonder that Real Madrid president Florentino Perez has insisted that football has to "change and adapt" claiming that that 40 per cent of young people between the ages of 16 to 24 are not interested in football, and that one reason is that 90-minute matches are "too long."

Real Madrid president Florentino Perez

Although the European Super League idea is now off the table, the reprieve is only temporary. The term ‘legacy fan’ is unflattering and insulting, and the disdain shown for the fans who have been the lifeblood and backbone of football clubs for decades is appalling. But, sooner or later the traditional football supporter will find themselves confronted with even more inconvenient kick-off times, for games in even more inconvenient locations – that 39^th game idea the Premier League had a few years back will inevitably resurface one day – with tickets more expensive and harder to come by.

The idea that “Football without the fans is nothing” rings pretty hollow these days.

Vaccine Passports: Reasonable or Not?

When a politician says that they, or their party, or the government they are part of, have no plans to do something, the one thing you can rely on is that you cannot rely on what they say.

In September 2020, when asked about certification to prove that people had been vaccinated against COVID-19, Michael Gove said, "I certainly am not planning to introduce any vaccine passports, and I don't know anyone else in government who is." More recently – in February 2021 – Vaccines Minister Nadhim Zahawi said that vaccine passports would be discriminatory, and that “we are not planning to have a passport in the UK.”

Opposed to them in September 2020, Michael Gove now believes that
the government must take the lead in the introduction of vaccine passports.

It was scarcely a surprise then, that ahead of Prime Minister Boris Johnson’s Downing Street briefing on Easter Monday (5^th April 2020), media speculation suggested that vaccine passports would indeed be introduced domestically. Even less of a surprise, therefore, that at that briefing, Johnson confirmed as much; a Covid-status certification system would be developed over the coming months, he said.

And the next day (6^th April), Nadim Zahawi’s opposition to a passport had evaporated to the extent that he said that, “exploring the idea of some form of COVID certification is the responsible thing to do as a government”.

As U-turns go, you could see this one coming from the moment that Michael Gove made his remarks on Sky News last year, and if not then, ever since the vaccination programme began. It has been a slow-burning idea whose time would eventually and inevitably come. And naturally, it does not come without controversy.

It is possible to argue that a vaccine passport or certificate is both necessary and reasonable, prudent and practical. It is equally possible to argue that such a thing is an abomination, and a gross infringement of our rights and civil liberties, another step towards the country becoming a police state. Equally, one could argue – with a foot in both camps – that the temporary introduction of such a passport is a proportionate response to the challenges of easing lockdown, albeit one that ought not to last any longer than is necessary and reasonable, that is to say, not indefinitely.

Your vaccine passport may look something like this.

Where do the great British public stand on the idea of vaccine passports? So far as I can tell from social media (not the most accurate barometer of public opinion, but as good a place to start as any), the only people expressing an opinion are those who are opposed to the idea.

It seems that many fear a dystopian future in which there will be random spot checks on members of the public’s vaccination status.

On the other hand, an opinion poll by Ipsos MORI of 8,300 people aged 16 and over, found the following percentages in favour of vaccine passports for certain activities:

·        78% - Foreign travel, visiting someone in a care home.

·        74% - Visiting someone in hospital.

·        68% - To go to a theatre or indoor concert.

·        63% - To visit a gym or leisure centre.

·        61% - To attend open-air concerts or sporting events.

·        58% - To use public transport.

One thing that leaps out about the likely uses of a domestic vaccine passport is the inconsistency of approach.

If this came to pass, I could travel from home to the other end of the country by train and bus, stopping for refreshment in pubs and restaurants, stay overnight in a hotel (all indoors), all without having to show a Covid passport, but upon entering a sports stadium (outdoors), I would need to.

Like so much of the response to coronavirus, the message is contradictory. When Matt Hancock appeared on ITV’s This Morning last week, he said that people “should minimise travel, but if you want to travel to see friends and family then that is absolutely fine - no matter where they are in England.” In other words, don’t travel, but travel as far as you like.

Even before Boris Johnson’s announcement on vaccine passports, individual venues were stating on social media that they would not require customers to produce such a document or display an app on their phones, and the UK Cinema Association reiterated their opposition to asking customers to prove their covid free status. Government plans to introduce a vaccine passport will not run smooth, it seems.

In much the way as we have become used to decanting our liquids into 100ml bottles, and removing our shoes and belts as we pass through airport security, the vaccination passport is as much about the Government being seen to do something as it is about actually achieving anything practical. It is possible that the Government might lose a vote on introducing a passport (if there is one, I’ve seen conflicting reports on whether one is necessary), or the court of public opinion may result in another volte-face, but opponents of the scheme will see it, along with any continuation of mask wearing, social distancing, and regular testing, as an aspect of increasing and continuing control of the people by the Government.

The control we are asked to believe that the Government is exerting in ever increasing ways intrigues me. Control usually has a purpose, it is normally a means to an end rather than an end in itself, but I have yet to hear of a coherent explanation of what this hypothetical control is supposed to achieve beyond control itself. Besides, the chaotic response to coronavirus the world over (with notable exceptions like Singapore and New Zealand, among a very small number of countries) suggests that national governments globally are not competent enough, nor their people pliant enough, for such control to be effective.

If a government really wanted to bring in controls on its people to the extent that the conspiracy theorists believe, why dress it up as a response to a pandemic, even one the conspiracists believe is manufactured for the purpose? Why not just do it?

I foresee a scandal brewing over the procurement of an app for a vaccine passport, though. More money will be spaffed on some Tory’s mate’s IT company for the privilege, although given that billions have been lobbed in Serco’s direction for the Track and Trace app, and there is – and was, even before covid – a perfectly usable NHS app, there’s no real reason why a passport couldn’t be bolted on to one of those with minimal development costs, and no need for new public money to pay for it.

On balance, I suppose that I am ambivalent about vaccine passports. If a smartphone app, or a physical certificate, is required to get me into events I want to attend, then I will have one; my desire to see a band or a sporting event will probably outweigh any concerns about the Government’s supposed desire to oppress me: I feel more oppressed by not being able to go to a gig or a football match than having to have an app to prove I’m healthy enough to do so.

The Time Travelling Sheep

Trypanophobia: an extreme fear of medical procedures involving injections or hypodermic needles.

I wouldn’t call myself trypanophobic, but I am not over enamoured of people sticking needles in me. I am happier with being jabbed for the purpose of inoculation or vaccination than I am for having blood drawn.

It isn’t so much needle going into the vein that is the problem - although having experienced ‘shy’ veins on more than one occasion and had phlebotomists in despair at finding one suitable to take a sample from, being repeatedly and unsuccessfully jabbed is not my idea of fun – rather it is the sensation (real or illusionary) of blood being drawn that I have the problem with.

The only time that I donated blood was when I was in my early twenties and must be the source of my problem. I can recall that the throbbing sensation in my arm was sufficiently discomforting to put me off repeating the procedure. I have a similar problem with having my blood pressure taken; the prospect of and actual feeling of the blood pumping in my veins makes me very uptight and I am sure that is why, whenever I have my blood pressure taken, it takes at least three attempts before the doctor or nurse is satisfied that I am not in need of immediate hospitalisation.

I went for a routine blood test yesterday, which passed off without any drama, and apart from the ‘shy’ vein incident, the only other time I have had any sort of problem with a needle going in was when I had a seasickness jab, the first time I went on a cruise. The injection –a large dose of anti-histamine – was administered in the buttock. If you ever have a similar injection, I recommend wriggling your toes while it is given as it is quite uncomfortable.

Tomorrow I am going for my first coronavirus vaccination, a little earlier than I expected. When the vaccination process began, the online calculator, which you can find at https://www.omnicalculator.com/health/vaccine-queue-uk, suggested that I would get my first dose at the beginning of April. With the pace of the programme, I thought that this would come forward to mid-March, but Val had a message from a friend who is the same age as us, and who works in a pharmacy. She had booked her vaccination, so we went to the NHS website on Friday, and booked our jabs at the ExCel Centre in Docklands.

The booking process was really simple and easy, and from what I have been told by other people, the actual vaccination process is pretty slick too. Side effects reported from people I know who have had the jab range from a brief soreness in the arm, to nasty flu-like symptoms lasting a couple of days. The phlebotomist I saw on Saturday told me that she was unwell for a day. That’s not something that I relish, but we’ll see.

At the time of writing, 19.9million people in the UK have been vaccinated, albeit that only 736,000 have had both doses. With immunity supposedly only conferred a few weeks after the second injection, there is still a long way to go, and it is not until May that Val and I get our second doses. Once we all have had our second doses, we should begin to return to a version of normality, but there will need to be adjustments.

Much talked about is the possible vaccine passport, which has its pros and cons, and raises questions. I think it more likely that a vaccine passport would be required for international travel than for domestic use. International travellers are used to having to have a certificate to prove having had a vaccination against yellow fever, for instance, while vaccinations against cholera, hepatitis, and diphtheria are advisable, if not compulsory for travel to certain countries.

Some destinations may only be accessible to British holidaymakers with proof of vaccination: the Greek Prime Minister has said as much, for one. Entering Covid vaccination details may become as commonplace when booking a flight, or a hotel abroad, as entering a passport number is at present, and I find it difficult to see any reason why anyone would have an issue with that. Some people would object, no doubt, perhaps on the grounds that the vaccine is not mandatory in the UK, but then again, overseas travel and foreign holidays are not a right, and if another sovereign country wants to make a vaccination certificate a condition of entry, then that is their prerogative.

More contentious, however, would be a vaccination certificate for domestic use. Some people object strongly; Ian Brown of the band, The Stone Roses, is one.

Vaccines minister Nadhim Zahawi has said that the government was looking at the technology necessary to create vaccine passports, but he has also insisted that it isn’t the government’s plan to introduce them. He has said that one reason for not implementing them would be that the vaccine itself is not mandatory; he also said that passports would be discriminatory and wasn’t clear what impact they would have on the transmission of the virus. All very confusing, but understandably so, it’s not a straightforward issue.

The question of technology should be straight forward to address. For smartphone users, a digital certificate could be a simple extension of the existing NHS app, or the Covid app, the cost of which is expected to reach £35million: adding extra functionality to hold a digital certificate should be relatively inexpensive. For those without a smartphone, a physical alternative ought not to be beyond the wit of man.

Of more concern would be how vaccine certificates would be used. Critics say that their introduction would be an infringement of civil liberties, and it is easy to see that certificates could lead to a sort of health-based apartheid. Imagine not being able to go to a restaurant, or the cinema, the pub or a football match, simply for the want of a vaccine certificate?

Back in the day, underage drinkers would borrow an older sibling’s ID to get into a pub and, and fake ID is undoubtedly still used today, so there’s every reason to suppose that fake or forged certificates would be created. Equally, sympathetic door staff might admit uncertified customers to venues, either for a financial consideration or simply because they were known to them.

Covid has inspired any number of conspiracy theories, too many to list here, but the supposed nanotechnology in the vaccine is a major one. This tweet, claiming that the vaccine will facilitate time travel is simply mind-boggling however, and it is not a spoof. (Time travel? Why? would be my first question).

In less than twenty-four hours I will have my first vaccination. When I’ve had my second, I’d be happy to have, and produce when needed, some sort of certificate. Ian Brown and Dr Naomi Wolf would probably see me as a sheep, but who knows, perhaps I’ll be a time-travelling sheep who is able to go to concerts and football matches. Maybe I can get a ticket for Live Aid, or the 1966 World Cup Final.

 

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Picture of Shaun The Sheep and Tardis by Runa on Threads magazine https://www.threadsmagazine.com/readerproject/2009/02/10/tardis-quilt

 

 

 

 

 

Roadmap Out of Lockdown: A Cause for Optimism At Last?

“Data, not dates,” said Boris Johnson, would be the key to England’s route out of the current lockdown. Predictably, the roadmap he then announced was a series of dates (to be honest, how could it be anything else?), with the 21^st June the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, the date at which everything should be back to normal. Or at least that is what most people seem to be assuming, especially on social media; it isn’t what the roadmap says.

In Step 1, schools re-open on 8^th March, regulations on meeting people outdoors are relaxed slightly, and care home residents can have one regular visitor.[1] From 29^th March, households can mix outdoors but not indoors, and some organised sport is allowed.

Step 2 includes opening gyms and libraries, non-essential retail and hairdressers, and allows household groups domestic overnight stays and self-catering holidays; Step 3 sees re-opening indoor entertainment, and indoor and outdoor events with spectators. In Step 4, life returns to pretty much how we remember it, pre-March 2020.

But, and here’s the major caveat, all the dates in the roadmap are subject to four tests being passed:

• The vaccine deployment programme continues successfully
• Evidence shows that vaccines are sufficiently effective in reducing hospitalisations and deaths in those vaccinated
• Infection rates do not show a surge in hospitalisations which would put unsustainable pressure on the NHS
• The assessment of the risks is not fundamentally changed by any new “variants of concern” of the virus

It seems that the tests being passed is largely being taken for granted but, while ‘no earlier than’ means definitively that Step 4 cannot be reached before 21^st June, it does not mean that cannot be later than then. The four conditions need to be met every step of the way, so Step 4 could be in June, or July, or August, or later, assuming the Government sticks to its own rules. You may remember Lockdown 1, when relaxing social distancing measures was contingent on the R number falling, but restrictions were eased on the basis of a timetable rather than data. That could happen again.

This diagram showed the supposed route out of Lockdown #1; it was largely ignored.

If the Government does follow its own rules this time, and if we, the public, play our part, and if the vaccination programme continues at the pace and efficiency with which it has started, then for the first time in several months there may be cause for optimism.  Maybe there is light at the end of the tunnel, but the end of that tunnel must be reached by reference to data, not blind adherence to dates.

Naturally, the light isn’t close enough for some, as this Daily Mail front page shows.

What are we waiting for? Another surge in infections and another lockdown, perhaps?

Of course, it’s easy to be gung-ho and demanding about these things when you don’t have to take any responsibility if it all goes horribly wrong. Meanwhile, petitions have been started to make 21^st June a Bank Holiday, not a wise move in my opinion, but unsurprising, as unsurprising as an uptick in infections a fortnight later if the last year is any guide.

Andrew Rosindell, MP for Romford, has said that the Prime Minister should "show flexibility and a willingness to move faster if the data allows it.” Others have said similar, but by the same token, they must be prepared for the Government to adapt to the data and move more slowly if necessary. Will they be patient if the data suggests that the dates cannot be met? I suspect not; the idea that these dates are set in stone seems to have taken root.

The wisdom of a mass return to schools on 8^th March is debatable. At the start of the year Boris Johnson, in support of pupils returning to their classrooms, claimed that schools were perfectly safe. Twenty-four hours later, after schools had re-opened for one day, he declared that they were ‘vectors of transmission,’ and closed them again. The science did not change in those twenty-four hours and I’m not aware of it changing significantly since, so why are schools now safe to re-open?  Vaccines, I suppose, and Vaccines Minister Nadhim Zahawi explained how vaccines made the case for an 8th March re-opening on breakfast TV on Monday, but ended up making an almost unimpeachable case for keeping schools closed till May.

As with all of the steps in the roadmap, time will tell, and wisely (not a word I am accustomed to use in relation to him), Boris Johnson has not ruled out further lockdowns – local or national – especially in order to tackle new variants of coronavirus. All things considered, this roadmap does appear more measured, more considered, and more realistic than some previous timetables and plans, so much so that I do wonder if someone curbed Johnson’s impulsive nature when it was being drawn up, or if he was sidelined entirely.

Looking at the roadmap from a personal perspective, the fact that sporting events with spectators cannot restart before 17^th May has led the Isthmian League to curtail the season, putting the kibosh on Romford FC playing any more league games, so it looks like it will be August before I see any more football.

Holiday lettings in self-contained accommodation can re-open from 12^th April, so, like many other people I’ll be hoping we can get away somewhere shortly after that date: All roads to the English coast will be jam-packed in April’s second week. International travel won’t return until 17^th May at the earliest, and although I suspect that Val would like to get away somewhere hot, I’ll happily wait till next year before dusting off my passport.

The thing that I have missed above all others in the last twelve months has been going to gigs. All being well, 17^th May will see indoor events such as gigs allowed with an audience of 1,000 or 50% of the venue’s capacity, and on 23^rd May I am due to see Sparks at The Roundhouse in Camden, and then Yes at The Royal Albert Hall the next day. I don’t suppose that either of these events are guaranteed to take place, and if they do, how the organisers will cater for reduced capacities. I expect to see emails at some point with information on that score.

Yes at The London Palladium, March 2018

I haven’t seen the inside of a pub since March 2020 (that’s the longest hiatus since I was a teenager), and even when they re-open in April it will be with outdoor service only, so the chances of me visiting one then are slim. Indoor drinking is scheduled to resume in June, which will be the earliest I’ll visit one I expect, since a visit to a pub is, for me, incomplete without actually being inside. If al fresco drinking is all that is on offer, I might as well stay in my own garden.

Any optimism I have about the coming months is tempered by caution. There’s many a slip twixt cup and lip, and even the most competent administration is a hostage to fortune in the face of a pandemic like this, but maybe, just maybe, they have it right this time.

The first landmark on Johnson’s roadmap is less than two weeks hence, when schools and colleges re-open. I just noticed, there’s no mention in the roadmap of when all MPs will return to the House of Commons, but I imagine it’s the same day as schools, don’t you?

 

 

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[1] Full details of the roadmap are on the Gov.uk website, https://www.gov.uk/government/news/prime-minister-sets-out-roadmap-to-cautiously-ease-lockdown-restrictions

Season’s End – Where Now For Non-League Football?

English non-League football is in a parlous state, from the National League at Steps 1 and 2, down to more local leagues at Step 7. The National League has been able to play behind closed doors thanks to grants of £10million from the Department for Digital, Culture, Media and Sport (DCMS) and the National Lottery, while Steps 3 to 7, which began their programmes in September with fans allowed in grounds subject to limits on numbers, have been suspended since the end of October.

The current National League Structure came into being in 2017, but is
due an update with the addition of an eighth division at Step 4

With the grants now ended and fans not returning for the foreseeable future, National League clubs are reluctant to accept the loans they are being offered to continue playing and are now in the process of voting on whether or not to curtail the season.

Steps 3 to 6 meanwhile, has seen no football since 31^st October aside from a handful of Northern Premier League games. When Step 3 and below started their seasons in September, crowds were limited to between 200 and 600, but secondary income sources such as food and drink sales were much reduced due to tightened restrictions, or were simply not allowed at all.

Bury Town v Romford on 31st October 2020 was the last game I saw.

Until now no government money has been available to clubs below the National League, but last week it was announced that clubs at Steps 3 to 6 could apply for grants ranging from £7,500 at Step 6, up to £27,000 at Step 3. Naturally, the grant money can only be used for specific purposes such as lease or mortgage payments, loan repayments, and utility costs, and not for capital expenses such as work on stadiums, or players wages. [1]

The big question for Steps 3 to 6 now is how to complete this season. The decision last March to null and void 2019-20 was not universally popular; a decision to null and void 2020-21 would be more reasonable as some clubs have played just five of their scheduled 42 league games, but other options are up for consideration.

Reversing the null and void decision, reinstating results from 2019-20 and combining them with the results from 2020-21 to compile league tables based on points per game (PPG) is one idea. This solution, which would feature promotion but no relegation, would allow The Football Association to implement its restructuring programme, which was supposed to have been in place at the start of 2020-21. The chances of The FA reversing last season’s null and void decision, especially after successfully fighting a legal challenge to it, are virtually non-existent in my opinion.

Project Non League is calling for decision to null and void the 2019-20 season to be reversed.

Another alternative to treating 2020-21 as null and void would be to carry forward the results and continue the season from August, or whenever it is possible to start. This would give the leagues a fighting chance of completing a whole programme of matches before the end of April 2022, but on the other hand, with some clubs having played just 10% of their 2020-21 fixtures, it could be argued that too little of this season has been played to make that worthwhile.

There are some people who still believe that there is a chance of completing 2020-21 in full before August. One such is the respected journalist, broadcaster, and supporter of non-League football, Tony Incenzo. In a recent tweet, he suggested the following:

• Wait until all main vulnerable groups have been vaccinated & lockdown is lifted in March
• Re-start the season & play through April/May/June/July
• Have the close season in August
• Start 2021/22 season in mid-September

A Twitter poll that he is running shows that 53% of those that responded support this idea.

I’ve no axe to grind with Tony Incenzo, and I cannot help but admire his optimism, but I cannot share it. The speed with which the National Health Service is vaccinating people suggests that the main vulnerable groups may receive at least their first jab by the end of March, but protection is not conferred until a number of weeks after the second vaccination. This alone makes lifting lockdown in March unlikely, especially since the Prime Minister has said that now is not the time to ‘take your foot off the throat of the beast’ by easing restrictions too quickly.

Even if football could restart at the beginning of April, Steps 3 to 6 clubs would not have trained for five months, much longer than even a normal close season, and would probably want two weeks to get back up to speed.

Assuming that the leagues could restart on the third Saturday in April, there would be sixteen weeks to complete the seasons before the end of July. This would require The FA to allow the game to continue through June, a month in which organised football is not normally allowed in England.

Even then, would completing the season be possible? In the Isthmian League Premier Division, Bishop’s Stortford have 36 games to play, and Bowers & Pitsea have 37; it may be doable, but is one game every three days reasonable for players who are holding down full-time jobs? And this assumes no postponements for either the weather or the inevitable covid outbreaks.

There are also play-offs to consider, which would either extend the season into August or, if completed in July, reduce the number of weeks in which to complete the regular season to fifteen (up to 36 games in just 105 days).

To start again in mid-September would allow just six weeks for clubs, especially those who had been promoted, to strengthen their squads. Clubs would also want to undertake pitch maintenance; both these activities are usually spread over double the length of time that Tony Incenzo’s proposal would allow.

All of this is entirely hypothetical. When and under what constraints non-League football returns is entirely at the mercy of the country’s response to coronavirus and to the restrictions that the government sees fit to lift.

I cannot see non-League football below the National League resuming before August, in which case the best solution is probably to pick up 2020-21 again from where we left off in October, assuming that coronavirus restrictions allow (which is not a given).

Whichever way 2020-21 is completed, there has to be a plan to deal with a possible (some would say likely) suspension of the season come next winter.  Last summer the leagues had scenarios to deal with a variety of start dates, but none had plans in place to handle the season being suspended.

It is difficult for The FA or the leagues to provide any certainty or assurances in these unprecedented times, but once a decision is made on the outcome of 2020-21, flexible and adaptable plans for the next twelve months need to be written, otherwise, there is a risk that come January 2022, football will be faced with the same issues it faces now.

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[1] Full details of the grant scheme – The Football Winter Survival Package – can be found here: https://footballfoundation.org.uk/grant/football-winter-survival-package

 

I Resolve

Here we are, a week into 2021: How are your New Year’s resolutions going? Did you even make any? I didn’t, and rarely have in the past. Any I made usually didn’t last 24 hours.

The problem with New Year’s resolutions is that most involve giving something up, whether it’s smoking, alcohol, eating too much, or gambling. These are either addictions or things that people really enjoy, so deep down, giving them up is the last thing you want to do. Ideally, if one wants to make a success of a resolution to quit doing something, it should be something you don’t like doing anyway; unfortunately, these turn out to be things you’re not allowed to give up, like work or visiting the in-laws.

Over indulging at Christmas and resolving, on Boxing Day, to give up some habit or vice a week later makes little sense. Give it up there and then, or don’t give it up at all. When I went for counselling to stop smoking, the first thing I was told was that you don’t finish whatever you have left and then give up, you give up immediately. So, no finishing that last pack of cigarettes, no finishing the beer that’s in the fridge, no last bet, just stop, full stop, period.

The flip side of giving up is the resolution to do something positive. Join a gym, read good books, take more exercise, take a course in flower arranging or cyber security, something that improves the mind, body, or soul. Every year (apart from this one), Fitness First, Nuffield, David Lloyd, and all the other gyms see a surge in membership in January, are packed to the gunwales for a few weeks, then see their new members fall by the wayside in February.

And books:How many copies of worthy books like Salman Rushdie’s The Satanic Verses, or Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time (25 million copies sold) have been purchased and discarded unfinished, or barely started? The Booker Prize list is where many people start when they want to find a serious, worthy, improving novel, and although most winners are best sellers, I bet many are enjoyed much less than the novels of non-prize-winning authors. For full disclosure, I submit that I have read just three of the winners since the prize was instituted in 1969.[1]

Courses get dropped, exercise tails off, improved diet lapses into a regime of fast food and sugar laden soft drinks as the majority of people lack self-discipline and will power, but first and foremost, we are set in our ways and all of these resolutions require change, and change is painful. Some also require more time than we are prepared to sacrifice.

There’s an expression – New Year, New You – that we have all heard and possibly wanted to embrace. It’s seductive, but potentially poisonous. If you want to change – and change is hard, change is painful – do it when you need to, when you want to, not because the calendar has changed.

Do I resolve to change in 2021? Do I have a shopping list of things I will stop doing, or start doing, or do more of? No, but I do resolve that as far as my blog goes, after this one, I will not write about Brexit unless something very dramatic happens or affects me directly. Ditto, covid (although that may be much harder to avoid).

As far as Brexit goes, my position is the same as it was when the EU referendum debate was in full swing in 2016. The EU has many flaws, and a sensibly negotiated exit on the back of a significant Leave majority may have been beneficial for this country. My fear in 2016 was that the actual act of negotiating how Britain would disengage from the EU would be a clusterfuck, particularly since Leave’s margin of victory was so small. Nothing I have seen in the last four and a half years persuades me otherwise.

Still, the majority of us may see little difference post-Brexit. Queuing at European airports for passport control (when we can actually go back to the Continent for holidays), a return to Duty Free limitations (with baggage restrictions on most airlines, not many people bring back ‘cheap’ booze or fags any more, anyway) are minor inconveniences, although for Britons who own homes in Europe and don’t have dual nationality, the 90 days in 180 rule will be a problem they have to work round. And for those UK citizens now permanently resident in the EU, some will find that if they have a UK bank account, their bankers will shortly be requiring them to make alternative arrangements, as some passporting arrangements are not available to financial institutions based in a third country, which the UK now is.

News to me was the introduction on 1^st January 2021 of a new method for the treatment of VAT on goods arriving in Britain, not just from the EU, but worldwide. In the interests of treating companies in EU and non-EU countries which sell to UK consumers in the same way, these companies will have to register with HM Revenue & Customs, and collect and pay VAT on HMRC’s behalf on orders under £135. Some companies have decided that this is too onerous and have ceased selling to UK consumers, as my elder daughter has discovered, as a company that she regularly buys from and who are based in Europe, will no longer ship to this country.

Former Star Trek actor William Shatner has similarly decided that his online store – based of course in the USA - will no longer be available to UK consumers. As he explained on Twitter back in October, he had decided that the costs of collecting the VAT and filing returns were prohibitive.

How much this affects me or you is difficult to assess (I’ve never bought anything from William Shatner, heck, I didn’t even know he had an online store), but I have bought plenty of stuff online from European retailers, so chances are I may find some products unavailable to me in future.

An immediate benefit of Brexit is the zero-rating of VAT on feminine hygiene products – the so-called Tampon Tax – albeit it’s too early to know if the benefits will be passed on to the consumer or retained by manufacturers or retailers.

Both of these changes – one a benefit, one a potential drawback – are relatively small beer. The major pros and cons that will accrue from Brexit won’t be known for months, or years, or as Jacob Rees-Mogg said in 2018, maybe not for fifty years.

I can’t wait for Rees-Mogg’s fifty year timescale to elapse (I’ll be long dead by then), so I will inevitably return to the subject of Brexit before then, but I resolve to hang on as long as possible.

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[1] Schindler’s Ark by Thomas Keneally; Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel; The Old Devils by Kingsley Amis

doomscrolling

 doomscrolling

When you keep scrolling through all of your social media feeds, looking for the most recent upsetting news about the latest catastrophe. The amount of time spent doing this is directly proportional to how much worse you're going to feel after you're done.

 

 By nature I am a pessimist; I have also been called a cynic, with which I find it difficult to argue.

 

My pessimism is not helped by my habit of doomscrolling. The last few years have been fertile ground for doomscrolling (or doomsurfing, as it can also be termed); Brexit, Trump, and now coronavirus having dominated the news and social media. Each has provided more than enough, without sundry more minor content keeping the doom mongers ‘happy.’

 

The more I doomscroll – and I realise I started doing it long before I knew it had a name - and the deeper I delve into threads, comments, and replies, the worse it gets – there’s real anxiety brewing each time I click ‘Show this thread,’ or ‘Comment’ – especially on Twitter where the arguments are more persuasive, opposing views sometimes equally plausible. Facebook, on the other hand has a greater proportion of tin-foil hat wearing, certifiable nut-cases.

 

What is clear from my almost incessant doomscrolling is that there are dozens of people - hundreds, thousands even – who know exactly what the government are doing wrong (just about everything), but who never, ever, offer an alternative. Let’s face it, the views of experts – men and women with impeccable qualifications and years of experience in the field – are no match for the Karens and Kevins whose expertise is gleaned from Facebook, Google, and tabloid newspapers with sensational headlines backed up by bullshit.

 

Let’s be honest, we may have the worst government in living memory at exactly the worst time in recent history, but criticising their actions without offering a better alternative is not helpful, not practically nor in terms of our morale. Spreading outrageous conspiracy theories that will likely only make matters worse is indefensible.

 

I have often justified my pessimism (and on occasion I’ve had to, I’ve been chided about it by my wife often enough in the past) on the basis that it is based on (bitter) experience, and besides, pessimists are rarely disappointed. Being a pessimist is actually a positive state of mind, the upside (if that isn’t a contradiction in terms) is that some days, I am delighted to be proven wrong as something I have been expecting to be a disaster turns out to be not too bad at all.

 

Today, however is not a one of those days. Today, London and parts of Essex are to be moved into Tier 3 coronavirus restrictions. Given the alarming rise in new cases, this was inevitable – even the most ardent optimist must have expected it – and just in time for Christmas too, when we were supposedly all being allowed greater privileges, not that I was anticipating taking advantage anyway.

 

A couple of things struck me about the Christmas relaxation of restrictions. Firstly, given the tendency for people to take a mile when given an inch, it looked foolhardy (the much vaunted British common sense that some politicians have cited in recent months looks in short supply, and given a couple of glasses of anything alcoholic was likely to disappear completely). And secondly, where in any relaxation of restrictions is there any remote reference to following the science? It was recently revealed that the recent move to place a 10pm curfew on pubs and restaurants was a policy decision, not a scientific one.

 

The striking thing about each and every government announcement on coronavirus is how singular it is, rarely having any reference or relation to any previous measures, nor being taken into account in subsequent ones; how else to explain the refusal to walk back the Christmas relaxation of social distancing rules on the same day that London and parts of Essex and Hertfordshire join Kent in Tier 3? And how do Essex and Herts get split when Kent had to be treated as a single entity?

 

This tweet sums it up:

 

Still, Christmas – got to be saved, hasn’t it? No; it doesn’t. We don’t really celebrate Christmas in this country as a Christian festival, not on the whole. It’s almost entirely a purely commercial occasion, driven by present buying and excessive consumption of food and drink. There’s no real reason why we cannot put the non-religious elements of Christmas on hold and have the party to end them all when – eventually – we get to the other side of this pandemic.

 

So, Christmas being ‘saved’ is a commercial decision on one hand, and on the other, one which seeks to make the government popular and prevent dissent. Besides, it’s Christmas, people will flout the rules anyway, so why not sanction it?

 

I hear that Jeopardy is nice this time of year.

It would be hypocritical of me to criticise the government’s response to coronavirus without offering better alternatives but I do feel justified in criticising them for the inconsistency of their coronavirus restrictions and their failure to communicate any form of justification. Not being a doctor, an epidemiologist or a public health expert, I can’t speak for the science they claim to be following, but what I do see are mixed messages. We can’t mix with friends outdoors – even in our own garden – but we can in parks or on beaches, but not in sports grounds. Except that some sports grounds can have spectators, but others can’t – and some that can, can’t have spectators who support one of the teams, but only those who support the other one. It’s little wonder that people don’t follow the rules, even if we understand them; they are inconsistent and difficult to justify. It often feels as though when new regulations come along, no heed is paid to what they replace, and we get left with conflicting and contradictory rules that no one bothers to explain the logic behind.

 

My Christmas will be quiet. We don’t have a large family; we don’t go in for large gatherings any year. This Christmas isn’t going to be much different from any other, just fewer presents (at the time of writing I have bought the grand total of one gift; the prospects of a Christmas Eve raid on the local petrol station for some desperate last minute presents looms.)

 

I appreciate that just because my Christmases are usually low-key, and just because I am happy to tone it down still further this year, not everyone will think the same. I know that there are people who have not seen relatives very much this year and who are looking forward to celebrating the season with them. But there’s a balance to be struck. Is giving up a normal Christmas in 2020 a reasonable price to pay to ensure a normal one in 2021 and thereafter? Or is this Christmas so important that it’s worth putting up with longer and more stringent restrictions? Reading some posts on social media, it does appear that many people have a ‘live today, and hang the consequences,’ attitude.

 

This will probably be my last blog of 2020: it would have been nice to have ended the year on a more upbeat note, but c’est la vie. Let’s hope that in 2021 we can all get back to a more normal existence, and have fewer opportunities for doomscrolling.

 

Have as merry a Christmas as you can in the circumstances. Likewise, the New Year, when I resolve to try to reduce my doomscrolling.