Covid: Let's keep setting about this virus like we're John Smeaton at Glasgow Airport – Susan Morrison
Day 10 in the Big Virus house. The tests are in and I’ve been voted negative by the LFT. No more pining at the window like a locked-in doggie watching the world go past. Free at last.
Heck, I could party on down, if I could find one and, mate, if I’ve been to a party, I know, and so does everyone else
What sort of rubbish do needs an investigation? Is there a standards test? Was it a party? Was it not? Are there shades of grey?
Have I missed the party checklist?
Wine, tick. Beer (NOT supermarket own brand), tick. Sausage rolls, tick. Half a grapefruit with cheese-onion-pineapple on cocktail sticks stuck in it, tick. What can I say? Party food-wise, I like a bit of retro.
My run-in with Omicron was a tad embarrassing, since I barely noticed it. It resembled a nasty cold, but I shook it off fairly quickly. My symptoms seem to consist of furious domesticity and drinking enormous amounts of tea.
On the other hand, my dear husband developed a honking cough that sounded like the mating call of sex-starved sea lion. And as loud.
I’m only too aware that I’ve been lucky. I was vaccinated, boostered and faced a milder form of Covid. Not sure what the outcome would have been if I’d had to take on Delta.
Other people were not so lucky. They didn’t make it. Too many lost loved ones and couldn’t even be with them at the end. There are people struggling with Long Covid and feel like they will forever stand at windows watching the world go by. They don’t feel like having a party.
This isn’t the end yet, even though Covid seems to be weakening. Let's give it a kicking when it's down. We, after all, are of the nation that counts amongst its heroes a man who gave a right old booting to a wanna-be terrorist who had just tried to bomb Glasgow airport.
Using vaccines and masks, we can all be John Smeaton. Covid, we'll set about ye, as we like to say.