OPENER / ANDREW TUCK
Parting shots
A year ago, you could order a home-testing kit from a private clinic to see whether you had coronavirus – price: £400. Last Saturday on a street corner in London’s Soho they were handing out free rapid antigen kits. Hundreds of boxes were being offered to anyone who wanted one. It has been a choppy week for virus watchers in the UK, with case numbers up thanks to the so-called Indian variant and consequently Germany, France, Switzerland and Austria bringing in quarantine measures for any Brits hoping to visit. But sometimes, you do need to lift your head and celebrate the successes too.
And how about this: in England if you are aged 30 or over you can now book your jab appointment. Lots of the Monocle crew have been this week and there’s no hesitancy. Indeed, when people come back to the office after their date with the needle, everyone wants to hear what vaccine they had and how they feel. There’s some excitement; a sense of duty. Our culture editor Chiara and Monocle 24’s Carlota are both having theirs a few hours apart at the same centre. To show support for each other they are having a “vaccine brunch” in between. And it’s just six months since the UK’s inoculation programme began.
Although, sadly, the first man to be jabbed here died this week – nothing to do with the vaccine I hasten to add. In a stroke of luck for the PR drive back in December, the octogenarian’s name was William Shakespeare and he helped to inspire some very funny headlines; recalling them this week over lunch we agreed that “Taming of the flu” was hard to beat. “All’s Well That Ends Well” was pretty good too – even if Mr Shakespeare’s story ended less happily. There was also a debate about how long it would need to be before you could open a curry restaurant called The Indian Variant or a beach-shack bar called The Third Wave.
More good news. London is stirring. From new restaurants to gallery openings, suddenly it’s busy. On Wednesday I went to dinner at the just-opened Nomad London hotel, which occupies the old Bow Street police station and magistrates’ courts, where celebrated appearances in the dock included Oscar Wilde, Bertrand Russell and the Krays. It’s an amazing site, smack in front of the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden, and the hotel has been nicely inserted into the building. Of course, it’s a scary time to be launching a hotel – there are no tourists to be found – but the sense of ambition and desire to get moving makes you wish these ventures very well. And the food is great. (A brief aside: if you want to see how Covent Garden looked in the 1960s and 1970s – when opera divas, gangsters and fruit, vegetable and flower sellers all had important appearances – find a copy of Clive Boursnell’s great photography book Covent Garden).
On a roll, on Thursday I went to dinner in Fitzrovia. The weather has finally improved and, to make the most of this, many restaurants have colonised parking bays for outdoor dining set-ups. Though you can finally now eat inside a restaurant, many diners and drinkers seem to prefer being alfresco – some residual fears? It was just nice walking around seeing so much frivolity and bonhomie at play. Again, just weeks ago the best you could hope for was a takeaway coffee.
We are not there yet, I know. There’s still swirling anxiety when rules suddenly change or when the numbers seem to head in the wrong direction. There’s still frustration with how this has played out and with government failures. But every now and then you just have to stop and look around. This is a story that has had more twists and chapters than we bargained for. It’s stymied well-laid plans and thwarted dreams. But there are good people and ideas at play and if you don’t recognise the progress, you will be left feeling defeated or uneasy. This will come to pass. And, in London at least, you can now wake up with a sore head and, as you lay there, decide to savour the dull thudding consequences of a nightcap in a dazzling new hotel bar.