I just went out after six weeks in quarantine. After what I saw, we’ll be lucky to get through a second wave

Coronavirus has changed the world, but not enough to part the red sea of able-bodied ramblers I keep encountering

We’re screwed.

That was my first impression after a (very) gentle wheel around our local park to take a look at how the partial lifting of the lockdown is working in practice.

It was a warm Friday afternoon, and small groups of people were dotted about the place. Prams were being wheeled side by side. People were playing games. Kids were hanging out. Elderly people were gossiping. Social distancing? It wasn’t completely absent. But the prevailing attitude appeared to be: Who needs it? We’re outside, it’s sunny and Boris says it’s ok!

Part of me wanted to give some of the people I saw a piece of my mind except 1) it probably wouldn’t have done any good and 2) I was making strenuous efforts to obey social distancing myself and didn’t want some finger-jabbing jerk getting in my face, which is a scary prospect when you’re using a wheelchair at the best of times.

I spent seven weeks grappling with suspected Covid-19 (diagnosed by GP but a test, you’re kidding right?). The remaining symptoms had finally gone by the end of the week before last, which, given that I’ve been contacted by people who’ve been suffering for eight weeks or longer, had me pinching myself. Could it really be over?

The answer to that question was yes. With only nagging post-viral fatigue to grapple with (hardly surprising given the severity of the illness I suffered), I decided some light exercise and a cautious, guideline-obeying look at the post-lockdown world was in order.

It was more than seven days since the last symptoms showed, so I could do that while complying with the government guidelines. I also checked and double-checked the social distancing rules, covered my face with a mask (to protect others as much as myself, just in case), shooed away a mild case of agoraphobia and gingerly set off.

Unfortunately, it didn’t appear the world had changed very much. The roads were surprisingly busy and the only other person with any sort of face covering I saw en route to the park was a Muslim woman wearing a veil.

I briefly wondered whether that garment might attract less controversy now but most of the conspiracy wackos who deny the seriousness of the virus, or subscribe to the bizarre idea that it’s transmitted by 5G, or imagine it was cooked up in a Chinese lab, also seem to be those most active in hating on Muslims in their spare time. Arseholes, in other words. Sigh.

I had high hopes that social distancing might mean people would give me some space, which can be a problem when using a wheelchair to exercise. No such luck. Coronavirus has changed the world, but not enough to part the red sea of able-bodied ramblers.

To keep clear of the promenading throngs, I repeatedly had to veer over from the path to the grass.

Fortunately, I spent a ludicrous amount of money on a third wheel that turns my chair into an ATV. It’s proven to be a sound investment.

I did eventually spot another mask on a bloke playing table tennis. But his partner was unencumbered and there were people sitting around half-watching while soaking up the sun. So I’m not sure how much good it did him.

Still, there are dangers in reading too much into one warm Friday afternoon. I therefore decided a repeat was in order.

A day can make a big difference and this one did.

On Saturday morning, people steered clear. They moved over on to the grass so I didn’t have to. When I moved for them, they waved in salute. Overnight, face coverings had become a thing, albeit only among a minority.

It was almost as if I’d woken up in a different country. I half thought that I had until I got home, turned on the TV and realised I was still in a place daft enough to have installed Boris Johnson as its prime minister

One theory I formulated for the stark difference between the two days was that Saturday morning was quite chilly and the park’s visitors were mostly hardcore joggers, decked out in Nike gear, wearing headphones.

Could it be that they’d been going out for the exercise permitted since the lockdown’s launch? Could this have made them more inclined to be stringent about the stricter distancing demanded by the harsher guidelines?

By contrast, the Friday crowd had more of an “enjoying the sunshine” feel about it. The people who made it up may have been encouraged out by the government’s mixed messaging and an “it won’t happen to me” mindset.

It’s only an idea, and it’s admittedly one based on fairly flimsy evidence. But enough evidence to reinforce my impression that we’ll be very lucky indeed to avoid a second round of this? I’m afraid so.