Mask up

I feel like there’s a fine line in one’s attitude to mask-wearing, and crossing this line can turn someone from being an average citizen into a cockwomble of the highest order.

From what I can gauge, myself included, consistent mask-wearing has not been done to date by the majority of people. I haven’t been on any public transport where it’s required (although I’m told not adhered to well) and at larger gatherings such as the anti-racism protests, I’ve worn one as requested. Whilst I haven’t been religious about wearing one in shops, the sensible thing to do is to step it up a notch and wear a mask from the point it becomes mandatory. This can only help reassure people, especially essential workers and any vulnerable people in the vicinity.

The biggest drawback of wearing a mask for most of us is that we feel like dorks and a bit uncomfortable. There isn’t really anything to complain about other than that, and it’s not a valid complaint worth airing. Complaints over and above this are an indication that in the UK (and the US where there are multiple anti-mask freak-out videos) we are so wedded to our own individual liberties that we can’t see the wood for the trees. In this analogy the trees are the perceived infringement on our comfort and the wood is the bigger picture of society’s wellbeing. We are relatively unused to adversity so blow our experiences of it out of proportion. We do not think about society’s wellbeing as default as we should. I am expecting many examples of British shoppers arguing with workers who ask them to don a mask.

Taking this stance of getting behind mask-wearing now it has been made more official doesn’t make someone a hypocrite for having not worn a mask 100% of the time before, nor does it make someone a stooge of protecting the company policies of corporate behemoths like Asda. It also doesn’t mean that we can’t remain sceptical of the government’s general motives and approach, which are highly inconsistent (masks in shops where it’s easy to follow a one-way system, but not in pubs where after four Camparis each Sharon and Julie will be two sheets to the wind and grinding against each other).

It just feels like the best thing to do at the moment, so I’ve got mine ready to take with me each time I go out.

Central Cambridge still has patches of feeling fairly eerie and deserted, despite having sprung back into action in many ways. This little stretch on Silver Street has the imposing walls of Queen’s College bearing down on the boarded up Anchor pub.