Britain is suffering more than other countries during this pandemic – when will we be given real hope?

I know everyone’s doing their best but it feels a bit galling to be living in a country where it’s constantly a case of one step forward and two steps back, writes Jenny Eclair

Boris Johnson hosts a virtual press conference on the coronavirus pandemic (AFP via Getty)

Another step back. I wasn’t fully aware quite how well other countries were doing in the fight against coronavirus, until a friend tweeted that the brilliant singer-songwriter/comedian Tim Minchin was preparing to perform to 5,000 people in Perth – ahem, that’s Perth in Oz, not Scotland.

Imagine that: imagine drinking cold lager on a hot summer’s evening and watching a live show? Imagine being surrounded by the sound of music and laughter that isn’t coming from a screen in the corner of your sitting room?

The Minchin gig is part of the Perth arts festival held throughout February, in both indoor and outdoor venues around the city.

This year it is going ahead, because culturally, Australia is getting back up on its feet. Meanwhile, over here, we’ve recently heard the news that Glastonbury is cancelled for the second year running; whilst the West End and every performance venue in the land remains in deep hibernation, with no prospect of emerging for months.

Of course, Australia isn’t completely out of the woods, and restrictions vary from state to state. However, according to the latest figures, Australia has reported an eighth consecutive day of no locally-transmitted coronavirus infections; compared to our same day toll of 38,350. Depressing, yes?

Now, I’m not a scientist. I won’t pretend to have all the facts and figures at my fingertips, and I don’t want to get into any ridiculous arguments about Australia being a massive country, much of which is completely uninhabited, as some will insist.

The fact remains that the UK appears to be suffering a great deal more from this pandemic than many other countries – and this appears to be largely downplayed by the media. Maybe they don’t think we can cope with a messy Brexit fallout and our place at the bottom of the Covid recovery board at the same time?

As a result, I rather naively presumed that during this latest wave of infection, most first world countries were all in the same boat. But this isn’t the case, and as we head into the last week of January, the UK is in a far more parlous state that many other counties. Indeed, there are places where people are leading more or less normal lives – we’re just not seeing it.

To be quite honest with you, I’m not sure that regular news footage from places that are coping better than we are would be particularly helpful. It’s quite galling in the midst of this muddy winter to imagine being able to freely go to the beach and gather in groups of a hundred in the park.

I’m also not sure if parents struggling to homeschool their children would welcome the sight of mums and dads jubilantly dropping their kids off at the school gates, Down Under?

Throughout this pandemic, I think one of the most impressive things we have managed to achieve is to keep a lid on the potential monster of blame. There has been very little finger pointing – for the most part, we have stoically toed the “nobody’s fault” line, although I will admit to some very dark mutterings after a glass or two of red wine.

But this time around, the cracks are starting to show. Patience is wearing thin and it’s very difficult not to feel resentful towards a government that allowed a second, more virulent, strain the freedom to roam free over Christmas.

The roll-out of potentially life-saving vaccines couldn’t have come at a better time – yet again, we saw a bit of that old 2012 Olympic Games spirit, as concert halls, tennis centres and cathedrals were utilised as vaccine hubs, and families all over the country felt they could maybe start to relax as their elderly relatives got jabbed.

But even this silver lining is now clouded with uncertainty and fear. My 72-year-old partner had his first Pfizer jab last Thursday, at an incredibly well-run NHS clinic in South London.

When he came out, clutching his second appointment card, I was weepy with relief and hope as he went off to rendezvous with our daughter, who brought a slice of celebration cake to the park to mark the occasion.

Sadly, this feeling of relief and hope is now dwindling with every news report that questions the 12-week gap between injections (my partner’s second vaccine appointment is in April), plus those who voice doubt over the efficiency of the vaccine, against any potential new mutant strains.

For those of us clinging to the idea that the vaccine is the way out, this feels like a very cold bucket of water being thrown right in our faces. There is something both cruel and frustrating about potentially playing Russian roulette with these second dose timings.

I know everyone’s doing their best but it feels a bit galling to be living in a country where it’s constantly a case of one step forward and two steps back – especially when other countries are taking great big strides back to normality. Lucky, lucky Oz.