We had a taste of normality. We had it, we loved it. Businesses flung their doors open again, and greeted customers and patrons. People smiled at each other. Friends caught up over dinner and drinks. I stood on the sideline and watched T1 at soccer training and play one friendly. It felt nice, normal.
But, due to numerous factors including: a) massive incompetence, followed by blame-shifting, from our premier; b) a shag-a-holic security guard who—after rooting women in hotel quarantine went onto his second job as an Uber driver—came to light as a ‘super spreader’; c) a failure to adequately inform and communicate with those who speak languages other than English, and d) many more that are too laborious to name here, we are facing a second round of lock-down. Six weeks, but it will likely go on for longer.
School holidays have been extended by a week. Most likely, we are looking at another round of remote learning for a good part of Term 3. All community sport re-cancelled. T1’s soccer only just got off the ground; Our Girl’s netball training was due to start next week with matches at the end of this month. Businesses are facing disaster.
My cheeks are flushed the colour of ruby gemstones. Of course I’m going to abide by the rules of the lock-down. But I’m angry, and I think all Victorians, and the nation, too, deserve answers about how this got so fucked up.