Lockdown has been pretty miserable. Like many, I’ve spent the vast majority of April and May in my bedroom. Now it’s June and Boris has said we can go outside and meet some people, if we stay alert in case some Covid-19 rocks up. Frankly, I’m not entirely sure what I’m allowed to do or how I should interpret the rules, which apparently depends on your social class or if you advise the Prime Minister.
All I know is I can’t yet visit Scotland. Or Wales. But England is safe. Even though the virus is still around. I’ll be safe if I’m alert.
The R Number (how the UK is measuring the spread of coronavirus) is currently above 1 in North West England (meaning 10 people would infect 10 other people) so it’s likely there will be another localised lockdown soon. Unfortunately for me and most of my friends, that is where I live. I blame the droves of people who flocked to Blackpool as soon as there was a bit of sun.
I’ve really limited myself over the last two months. I’ve barely left the house. I’ve solitarily flattened every blade of grass of the countryside around my house. I’m a bird who flew all over SE Asia only to be locked in a cage when I came home. It’s been tough (as it has been for everyone). I’ve been depressed, I’ve had feelings of utter worthlessness that haven’t fully gone away yet – not helped by my slowly healing shoulder that hampers me, nor my returning to a job I thought I’d left behind forever.
Asia opened my eyes to how one can live their life, but it also made me feel old. I’m 27 now. When you’re a kid, you reckon you’ll have a house, lots of money, a wife and kids by the time you’re 30. I see so many friends around me settling down, whereas I just want to fly away – and that makes me feel guilty, or immature. Is this normal? Why am I not fully adulting yet?
Lockdown hasn’t been great for my mental health, and that will be the case for millions more. So despite my reservations, and beliefs that lockdown was ending too soon, I organised a little reunion.
Some morale boosting social distanced socialising. Keep 2m apart!
Joel, Rob, Andy and I met up at Alderley Edge on a grey and miserable day. The Edge is owned by the National Trust, so usually members can park for free. But with the country still in a lockdown, the ticket terminals are out of use and anyone can park freely.
Just look at that vista of greys and browns. A treat for the eyes.
We headed up to Stormy Point. What a name.
Thankfully, the grim weather kept other people away. Andy and I had visited a few days earlier and people did not care about social distancing.
Tbf, I quite like the cool weather. The air was fresh and delicious. The views weren’t so great, but we’d all met up for a catch up anyway. The Edge was a side dish.
Spot the Andy.
Up at Stormy Point you can see the red sandstone that makes up this Edge. There were more people here so we walked on.
We saw this cairn upon a small mound. This is a memorial stone to the Armada Beacon tower that once stood here, that helped carry news of the Spanish Armada from the south coast of England to York. Think of Lord of the Rings: Return of the King. Gondor calls for aid! And York will answer!
We wandered around to Castle Rock.
There was no castle, but it would be a good place for one. From this rock you get a great view of north Cheshire, Manchester and the Pennines.
Andy and Rob swapped heights.
And that was that at Alderley Edge! The plan had been to go back to Joel’s for a beer in the garden, but as rain looked likely and we’re not allowed in his house, we decided to get in our cars and find somewhere else to explore.
This is Joel’s neck of the woods so we all followed him in convoy. On the way he took us past some bloody fancy houses – this part of Cheshire has loads of them. Some look like spaceships, some look like miniature castles. Go for a drive through Prestbury if you wanna see how the 1% live.
Joel took us to Tegg’s Nose Country Park, on the Gritstone Trail near Macclesfield.
Again, thanks to lockdown, parking was free. There’s a cosy looking tea room here which obviously, sadly, was closed.
The weather was starting to turn, so on went the coats. The first few spots were falling. Again, we were thankful cos it meant there were few other people here.
On the trail, you’ll see relics of the park’s quarrying past.
You can also get a view of Macclesfield Forest…
some reservoirs…
and the Cheshire Plain. I reckon it all looks prettier when the sky is blue.
You can see Jodrell Bank from here, but my camera quality isn’t high.
We were starting to get hungry, so we headed back to the cars. The spitting had stopped but now the wind was picking up.
My lockdown ‘do was all over the place.
We set our sat-navs for a Tesco Express in Wilmslow and headed over. We got in our cars just in time, as the heavens opened and it rained REALLY hard.
Andy sped off ahead and eventually Joel slipped off-piste down a side road. Rob and I stuck together all the way to Wilmslow, when I decided to try a quieter route. It had become a race.
I cheered when I suddenly saw Andy, who had been miles ahead, JUST in front of me. I was well happy with my chosen route until I saw Joel parked up at the side of the road, cackling to himself. The local boy knew his shortcuts.
We all grabbed a Subway and headed over to The Carrs Park.
Wilmslow is a pretty fancy town. Not like Winsford. If you’re a Cestrian (person from Cheshire), and you tell someone where you’re from, they would imagine Wilmslow. Or the Alderley Edge town, tbh. The nice bits.
The Carrs name has nothing to do with cars. It comes from the Old Norse word ‘kjarr’ which means ‘meadow recovered from bog’. There’s a nice bit of knowledge for you to instantly forget.
Through the park runs the River Bollin.
Through the park, walks us. We did a full circle, admiring the pretty park and beautiful people (Andy and I especially – he knows what I mean). The sun was even starting to make an appearance so Joel showed us a beach.
Newly discovered, according to Joel. It reminded me of The Lost World. I could imagine a few compsognathus hopping by the stream.
And that was that! Maybe at times we strayed beneath the 2m mark, but no cuddling occurred.
It’s a tricky one, weighing up the risks of socialising against the risks of keeping yourself caged up. I suppose some people, the high risks, don’t have a choice. I’m thankful that I do. Coronavirus has obliterated 2020 and all the prospects we had. There’s a real dampener on the world, and more misery to come when the inevitable recession hits. People can’t even protest basic human rights without being attacked for spreading the virus… It’s a lose-lose situation and people are at breaking points for a number of different reasons.
Maybe we should all be a bit more Dominic Cummings. I don’t mean go for a drive when your eyes aren’t working, but we could interpret the current rules in a way that makes sense for us. Just be sensible. Keep those hands washed and those distances wide.
I suppose Boris’ slogan should be “stay sensible” – but most people aren’t capable of that. Maybe he should just be firm and force us to stay indoors. Maybe he should have done that sooner, like Germany and France and Italy did.
I hope you’re all well and moderately happy. A new world awaits us on the other side of this dark Covid tunnel. Who knows how it will look, but I can’t wait for the light to hit me.
#VidOnTour 