Colm O'Regan: It's hard to deal with consecutive crises but it's harder to deal with Covid-19

Colm O'Regan in Dublin's City Centre. Picture: Gareth Chaney Collins

Looks like with lockdown we’re back to square 3. Or is it 2 and a half?

Once again, walking the pavements will require choreography. Like those elaborate royal courtly dances that you see in costume-drama movies. People circling each other with meaningful glances, with their hands tucked in. Masked. An air of tension. 

All we are missing is a saucy-bodiced Lady Schemington whispering gossip to the lascivious Viscount Pantaloon.

It’s hard to deal with consecutive crises but it’s harder to have Covid-19 so we’ll do what needs to be done. I just feel sorry for children again. I don’t mean school. That’s a whole other ball game.

In fact, we don’t know what the future status of ball games at school will be. If children can’t run in the yard because their parents will sue over a cut knee, I shudder to think about the Covid-19 claims.

No, I just mean the park. Before when nothing was open, you could tell them that the Silly Virus (™), as we call it, was out there and we all needed to be careful and to give people space. However, it was easier then because there were less people out to give less space to. Now the genie is out of the bottle and we need to figure out what the etiquette is.

We were out walking a few days ago and our eldest, who would talk to a stoat, happened to encounter The Other Most Talkative Child In The Village. They had a lot to say to each other. That lovely breathless conversation four-year-olds have where they list off the Things They Have Or Recently Got. Then they list off the Things They Can Do. It’s refreshing watching people so open about their wages and skills. Adults are cagey when you try the same thing on them in the park. 

They’re all like, “I’m sorry that’s none of your business what possessions I have. Yes I can do a tumble but I’m not going to show you.” They totally can’t tumble by the way. But I can. Watch.

So far, so normal. 

The problem then occurs where the Two Talkers are joined by their seconds-in-command and now you have a group of four girls excitedly chatting away getting closer and closer. 

They are planning one of those complicated small child games which struggle to get off the ground because there are 15 rules and not all of them have been revealed. However, it looks like it could involve close contact.

And we don’t know the parents and they don’t know us.

“Now girls, give them some space”, we say with a tone of voice that has to somehow convey politeness, urgency, no judgement of any other human being living or dead, and a sense of humour to indicate to the other parent “Shurlookitthisisit”. “Give them space” is also our euphemism for “STAND BACK THEY MAY BE UNCLEAN THEY MAY HAVE THE MARK OF THE DEMON VIRUS.” However, you can’t be saying that outside Spar. At least not yet.

So there begins a prolonged tense ballet through the park as we encounter them again and again and try and read how they are feeling.

What we really want to say is: “Look, we’re fairly sure they’re virus-free. We reckon children are probably ok to play without acting the maggot. We’ll try and ensure they don’t start throwing spit at each other. What’s your position on this?”

It’s hard to do that with strangers. So we guess by body language. And as masks become more widespread, we’ll just have to read the meaningful glances.

* Colm’s latest novel Ann Devine Handle with Care is out now.