Don’t kid yourself – a long, hard winter of lockdown awaits

We were wide-eyed in March, perhaps even a little giddy on the chaos of it all. But there is no sugar-coating it, lockdown will be much, much harder second time around

Is anyone else going to bed earlier and earlier… and earlier? During the first lockdown, I’d usually see the evening through to midnight. Puzzles, mostly. Tried the baking thing. Bit of Netflix. But now, 10.30pm feels like a late one and 9.45pm about right. You can forget Newsnight.  

When lockdown was imposed in March, we were pretty stoic about it. Grayson Perry encouraged us to make pots. Joe Wicks insisted on squats. Online book clubs formed. But mostly, we just got really drunk on Zoom. It was novel and, dare I say it, sometimes quite fun. Not the way we’d choose to live our lives obviously, but come on, needs must, let’s buy some flour.  

None of this stuff is happening now, partly of course because the rules have eased considerably – not that long ago, the government was actually paying us to go out – but partly because we can’t be bothered anymore. An early night is just easier, isn’t it? Passes the time.    

With local lockdowns already in place and a national lockdown looking inevitable, however, this shift in mood is a real worry. If we are asked to stay indoors again, it is hard to imagine the country recapturing its determination to make a go of it. There won’t be online quizzes. Mr Motivator will not be back on the BBC. Those were fever dreams. We were wide-eyed in March, perhaps even a little giddy on the chaos of it all.  

This time, I fear we are far more likely to stock the fridge, draw the curtains, go to bed and call it a day. Our collective will is faltering. I don’t mean that large numbers of people will flout the rules in the event of a second lockdown – support for it, if necessary, remains high. But the response to living within the confines of these restrictions will be less of an adventure and more of a grind.  

Think of it like a long-haul flight (remember them?). You sit down, 14 hours ahead of you, with a book, some serious magazines, a laptop and the intention to finish some work. A few hours in, you’re drunk and playing Pac-Man on the in-flight entertainment. As a country, we’re at the Pac-Man stage. Not ready, you understand, to do anything stupid… like having a fag in the loo. Nothing like that. We just want to get there now. And can we have another G and T, please?  

Oh, and then there’s winter to contend with. Back in the spring and summer, you could finish work just about as late as necessary and, with no commute, still get outside in daylight for a jog, a walk or even a socially-distanced catch-up in the park. Not now. So we will, inevitably, do less exercise, put on weight and feel crap.

Last month, Times columnist Hugo Rifkind argued that the next few months will not “be anything like the spring [...] It will not be new, or uncharted. A world delayed, not derailed. Less of a horror and more of a hassle.” He’s right that we better understand our enemy now – the first wave proved that we can cope – but the horror of a second lockdown derives precisely from the hassle. We know too much. We know all about time losing its shape, days and weeks slipping confusingly together into an amorphous blob. Who can conjure up the energy to confront hassle? Horror, maybe. But not hassle. That’s exactly why we should be concerned.    

There is a serious point to all this. We know that mental health deteriorated during the first lockdown. According to The Lancet, “clinically significant levels of mental distress rose from 18.9 per cent in 2018-19 to 27.3 per cent in April 2020, one month into UK lockdown”. Factor in Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), which impacts about one in 15 people in the UK, and this number is sure to rise significantly. Pharmacist Anshu Kaura told the Refinery29 website: “Many people may find that they aren’t able to go out as much as normal and this, combined with the stress of the situation, may have an effect on the amount of people experiencing SAD.” Added to this, according to Drink Aware, 24 per cent of adults reported drinking more since lockdown. All this happened in the first round. During summer.

This is not some libertarian demand for the government to give us back our freedom or a call to follow Sweden and go for herd immunity. I have no doubt that, if Covid-19 infection rates continue to rise, a second national lockdown will be the correct course of action. 

If we recognise this, though, there may be some hope. Half the battle is confronting the fact that a second lockdown will be harder than the first. Rather than retreating, we must redouble our efforts to stay active and be productive, while keeping a close eye on friends and family who may not be coping.

Crucially, the government must not assume that we will be okay, simply because we know the routine. The casualness with which local lockdowns have been imposed and lifted, as well as the poor messaging, suggests that this government thinks rounding us up and shutting the gate as and when infections rise is straightforward. It isn’t. If we are required to do it, our mental health cannot be disregarded. As we become increasingly used to living under lockdown, whatever form that takes, the risk is that we accept feeling low as another part of the “new normal”. That should never be the case and the government must ensure that adequate support is put in place.      

A long, hard winter awaits. There is no sugar-coating it, I’m afraid. The temptation will be to hibernate – wake me up when this is over, folks. But succumb and we’ll be doing ourselves and those around us no favours.