Suzanne Harrington: It's time for Ireland to stop living in fear of Covid

'Why vaccinate everyone and remain in fear?'

On Saturday I go to a gig. The Specials. Special not just because I missed them in Cork forty years ago – I was still at primary school – but because it is my first live music outing since the C-word hurled a corona-shaped spanner in our cultural works. From yoga retreats to Idles gigs, music festivals to sunshine holidays, all the fun got jammed. Until now. At least, in the UK.

International travel aside, there is a feeling of normality here. We took the medicine, and so far, it’s working. It remains to be seen whether we grow flippers at some date in the future – anti-vaxxers will be disappointed if we don’t - but frankly, flippers seem a reasonable trade-off for being able to go out. 

Out, out. Properly out, regrouping in big fat unmasked, unfettered, undistanced crowds, breathing all over each other, hugging, colliding, inhaling, the lot. Being human in large groups, rather than hiding behind hankies.

The Specials are special not just because they’re, well, The Specials, but because there are 4,000 of us crowded together indoors in a cavernous dark space, singing along to Rudy and Ghost Town, all the oldies singing all the oldies. Squashed in a venue, greying and paunchy, wall to wall Fred Perry and Dr Martens, delighted to be out, out. Clutching plastic pint glasses, getting sweaty from dancing and hoarse from cheering. 

All that differs from our pre-C-word world is flashing our phone’s vaccination thingy on the way in. My kids return from a five-day music festival, deafened, skint, exhausted, filthy; a quasi-spiritual experience with Chemical Brothers and chemistry, Sleaford Mods and cider. Feet sore from dancing.

At the football, 60,000 of us watch West Ham v Crystal Palace limp to a mediocre draw; the Saturday before, a different crowd of 30,000 cheer Brighton at home, thumping Watford 2-0. You’d think it was Brazil v Italy in the World Cup Final, from the fizzing excitement of the stands. Real crowds at real football, instead of crowd noises dubbed over empty stadiums and fans watching it alone at home in solitary confinement, the stands empty and sad.

Walking into a full football stadium feels like walking into a gigantic rave – a whoosh of crowd energy you can inhale, a rush of joy at the sight and sound of tens of thousands of people altogether, visible, audible, joyful. Singing and roaring. 

The football is there too, but the real buzz is the crowd. It is electrifying. Like plugging a dead phone into the national grid. Again, vax apps are scanned to get in. This seems to be the only difference to before.

So why then, with over 80% of Irish adults now fully vaccinated and 90% with one shot and on course for their second, is Ireland still waiting? Why the hesitancy? Surely, it is time to do the things that make us feel most human, most alive, most connected. Why vaccinate everyone and remain in fear? Open up, Ireland.