Well,  it seems that Corona-Sadism continues as the country is told that the much hoped for relaxation of Christmas rules will not happen and that Christmas is effectively cancelled.

The news hasn’t really come as a surprise to me, but nevertheless it is a morale dampener. My parents and my elderly mother-in-law all live in England and have only seen their grandchildren twice this year, the new restrictions mean that travel is restricted in and out of Wales and for me and many families 2020 will be the year that we spent Christmas apart.

The tighter regulations, leave a distinct feeling of ‘bah humbug’!  It’s bad for business, bad for mental health, bad for socialising, bad for morale and bad for that warm fuzzy Christmas feeling. Yet what is the alternative? Well, I suppose we can’t expect common sense to prevail and so there is every possibility that Christmas celebrations could have led to New Year commiserations and a steep Covid19 peak, but I cannot help question whether the Government plans are clearly thought out or merely reactionary. I keep getting a sense of the British Covid19 regulations being somewhat Dad’s Army, with Jack Jones, shouting, ”Don’t Panic’!

One thing is for certain the news of the shops shutting made social distancing a forgotten art. Within minutes of the news breaking that non essential shops would be closing on Saturday 19th December 2020 at midnight, it seems everyone and their face mask  entered a retail frenzy and hit the shops in force. There have been many images shared on social media and in the news of huge queues outside toy shops, clothing retailers and stores such as Argos, in a last minute scurry to salvage something of Christmas if only through retail therapy.

Well, I hope for a better 2021, where all our plans can be less curtailed. In the meantime I shall console myself with Christmas crooners, a mince pie or two and a glass of punch whilst I reflect over  what kind of a Christmas is it where no one hugs, or sings along to carols, where sitting on Santa’s knee is out of the question; where you can’t eat your neighbours home made mince pies; where the mistletoe is a potential hazard and the only way you will smudge your lipstick is on your face mask.  Let’s face it if we were to party like it’s 2020 it would be with “extreme caution”, from a ”distance ” and the dress code would be “PPE”.

Still at least we’ll all survive and we’ll live to tell the tale via Zoom or via the telephone (providing it’s been sterilised)!