On travel shaming

I am a simple man, wo sees things simply.

Travel in a pandemic seems mad to me.

Travel for pleasure in a pandemic especially so.

There are those who have been separated from their Mothers, Fathers, sons, daughters, partners, lovers for for some 18 months or so now, should they travel?

I don't know.

Travel in anything other than your car is a risky business; some of the risks can be mitigated, but not all. And even if where you are going is OK, in getting there on a jetline with recrculated air, seems just about the perfect environment for infecting the most people in the shortest time. And then there is the arrivals at either end, waiting in line side by side with people who may have travelled from a red list country, or be infected.

We just don't know.

I want to see my friends again, I want to hug them, I want to play cards with Jen and John, but John has a family: children, grandchildren and great=grandchildren, I won't put my desire to socialise with him above the love for his family.

Would I plan a summer holiday?

No. No I wouldn't. And we have saved enough money to have one, if we wanted, but why take risks when we are so close to beating this thing? Risk bringing in a new mutation that could kill those you love and trasure?

No.

Is there a right or wrong answer? No.

But The Hate Mail demanded that people in care homes be able to hug their families: even it it places huge risks on them, could kill them?

And what is this need for a holiday? I mean we all want a holiday, but at those risks? Portugal, Spain, Italy are not going anywhere, they'll be there next year.

1.53 million people came into the UK while the whole population of the country was in lockdown, none of us brought in the Delata variant, yet someone did, let in by the Government who did not seal our borders when they had a good reason for doing so.

I hope that I'm wrong on the third wave and that the vaccines will hold and COVID will melt away. I really do.