Five signs you are suffering from NFOGO (New Fear Of Going Out)
Just when you thought it was safe to go back to the pub (the actual pub, and not just the beer garden, which looks pretty with its new fairy lights but is freezing after 9pm), along comes another shark.
Today, May 17, the Government has unlocked the next level of normality: we can now legally eat or drink indoors at a pub or restaurant, fly abroad (to one of about three different countries!), hug people we don’t live with, visit a cinema or theatre and meet in groups of six indoors.
For many, this means skipping forth in ecstasy, belting out the chorus to George Michael’s Freedom and rushing to embrace whoever they encounter. But this won’t be for everyone. The new coronavirus variant still threatens to throw our plans into jeopardy, and the Prime Minister and others are advising we remain wary, following 14 months of unremitting wariness.
Not for the first time, the messages are bafflingly mixed: it’s ok to go ahead with opening up, but on the other hand be careful, because it might not actually be that ok. We’ve been told to make our own, informed decisions and think about the risks. Unsurprisingly, some people are.
Sir Jeremy Farrar, director of the Wellcome Trust, told BBC Radio 4’s Today programme: “I do believe all of us need to be really, really careful," adding that he, for one, would not be meeting others indoors "at the moment". He’s not alone. Anecdotal and academic evidence suggests a significant minority of people, vaccinated or otherwise, are not yet ready to get back out there again.
Here are the signs you’re suffering from the New Fear of Going Out (NFOGO):
You’re checking the weather forecast
Because if there’s a heatwave, you could legitimately argue for eating al fresco with your five chosen friends, whatever the rules allow. “It’s actually going to be a balmy 12 degrees on Saturday,” you’re surprised to hear yourself saying. “It would be a shame not to enjoy all that amazing May sunshine on the patio.”
You’re newly hug-averse
Pre-pandemic, you thought nothing of going in for the full continental hug and a kiss or two. Now, this holds rather less appeal. As your friend launches herself towards you like it’s 2019, you find yourself visibly flinching – possibly even recoiling in unconcealed horror. It’s been a long time since this kind of greeting felt normal, and you’re not yet ready to switch back to tactile socialising, sloppy kisses and breathing frighteningly close to one another. An element of physical distancing is still fine for now, thank you very much.
You’re nostalgic for nights in
Some of your friends are busy arranging indoor get-togethers, mainly because they can. You love your friends, but not as much as you loved watching all those box sets in your dressing gown without needing to apologise to anyone. Now you’re expected to undertake laborious tasks, such as getting dressed, and frankly it’s all a bit much. You’re safe on the sofa, and don’t particularly welcome the pressure to suddenly leave it behind.
You’re making excuses
Maybe you’ve got a slight cold. Or you’ve got an Ocado arriving. Or you’ve got a work commitment that can’t possibly be rearranged. (You’ll work out what it is later, just in case anyone asks.) You assure your friends you’ll definitely join in next time. If next time they’re doing something on Zoom.
You’re checking local infection levels
And working out your precise statistical likelihood of contracting the new variant on your trip to Tesco, or the Kent variant, or any other variant capable of slyly penetrating your vaccinated, masked, sanitised body. It could happen; you read it somewhere. And you’re not taking any chances.
