Feeling Nervy At The Train Station

For many months now, hardly anyone can be seen in a superstore without wearing a facemask. I could go further to add that if a maskless adult happens to line up behind one of the tills, then I might have been tempted to cheer. Unlikely. At the store's main entrance doors sits one member of staff who was never there pre-pandemic - the Covid marshall.

The previous week, I entered the superstore to buy the morning newspaper, and in my haste, I'd forgotten to put on my mask. I was still at the stand with the paper in my hand and about to head for the self-service checkout when I was approached by the marshall to asked me if I would like to borrow a mask. That was when I apologised and whipped out my own face covering.

That morning's experience left me feeling uneasy for the rest of the week. What kind of society had we evolved into? 

I seem to recall reading a futuristic adventure comic strip back in the 1970s. A young woman, named Axa, living permanently inside the Dome, which covered a large city underneath. The huge transparent dome was built to keep the air within it pure and free from any contamination. Like all the other Dome inhabitants, she was dressed in a dull, full-body uniform from crew-neck to ankle. Then one day, in rebellious anger, she tore her top from the neck, down the middle as she strode along, leaving her with a partially exposed chest. However, she was immediately caught by an officer and brought before the governing council.

The Council granted Axa's request for her to dress how she liked, and her desire to leave the safety of the Dome was also granted, providing she sets out on a very dangerous mission arranged by the Council. One wise member of the ruling party gave her a sword, and she was then dismissed.

The air outside the Dome was polluted with a radioactive Great Contamination, gotten from the last nuclear war which wiped out the majority of the global population, and as such, the need to construct new cities for the remaining human inhabitants, each city under a protective dome, for their own survival.

The Great Contamination had an effect on wildlife. Axa was barely out of the Dome and wandering through the semi-desert when she accidentally ran into what looks like a pattern of cords. Approaching her was a spider the size of a car, and dwarfing the woman. The web was strong enough to hold her in place as the spider was about to roll her in a cocoon that would have given the hungry arachnid its much-needed nourishment.

But Axa was swift with her sword. With it, she took a swipe and decapitated the spider. She then used her sword to sever herself from the web strands. She then departed on her adventure, leaving the lifeless giant arachnid as food for the birds and other wildlife.

The current pandemic has brought back memories of the comic strip. Indeed, the air may not be contaminated with post-war radioactive pollutants, but it transports viruses from one person to another. Hence the need for a national lockdown - perhaps symbolised by the dome under which Axa lived and felt restricted.

I can also see a parallel between the tearing of Axa's own clothing to my desire to throw away the mask. At least she was given a sword by the Council - the equivalent to the vaccine, endorsed by our Government, and the struggle with the giant arachnid which can be likened to our struggle with the fatal illness, which only the sword/vaccine can fight against.

Okay, I'm aware that comparing the present pandemic to a comic strip that seems irrelevant may seem ludicrous, but then, why not? Just as often a true word is spoken in jest, so why can't real prophecy be expressed in a cartoon?

And so, one very warm and sunny weekday, I thought of killing some spare time with a trip to Reading, a short train ride from my hometown of Bracknell. There is one issue I'm aware of - that is - whenever the weather is warm, I prone to sweat rather freely. Therefore the fabric of a facemask would quickly soak, begin to smell and become even more uncomfortable and unhealthy over a short time.

But I was also curious about our current laws regarding the restrictions. For example, suppose that I was sitting in the train maskless and the guard, or conductor, arrives to inspect my ticket. He then orders me to mask up. But what if I had a paper cup of hot coffee and a croissant resting on the table in front? Would the guard still deliver the same order?

Just like this morning, when I visited Starbucks for an in-house coffee and croissant. While I was standing in line, waiting for my turn to be served, I had to wear a mask because this was required. But as soon as I sat at a table inside the restaurant, I was allowed to take my mask off.

It's as if the virus itself has adversity against the presence of food, and therefore, it's powerless to infect where there's food around! Why that is, it's quite remarkable. Either that or the laws lack sense. Therefore, I decided to conduct a social experiment - to see what might arise when I use public transport maskless. If the guard was to approach me and either ask me to put on a mask or order me to do so, then I would love to have countered with the question:

If I had a mug of coffee here in front of me, and maybe a cake as well, would you still order me to put on a mask?

I would have loved to hear how he would have answered that question. But instead, no guard walked through the coach throughout the train journey and as such, my curiosity remains unfulfilled. However, before settling down at the start of the journey, I made sure that all the seats around me were unoccupied. Being off-peak, this wasn't a problem.

Reading Station is larger than the one in Bracknell, as while the latter is on a commuter line, Reading serves as both a commuter terminus and a principal through-station on the Great Western Railway for trains from London into South Wales and Cornwall, as well as a stopping point for Cross-Country Trains from Birmingham, Manchester and Newcastle to Bournemouth and Cornwall. Therefore, for such a busy station, its forecourt doubles as an indoor shopping precinct, making mask-wearing compulsory, that is, except when seated at one of the tables placed near the eateries.

The nervousness I felt when I kept my mask in my pocket instead of donning it after alighting, was not spotted by the two barrier controllers as I inserted the spent ticket into the slot to activate the barrier. I felt relief when I stepped outside.

I had lunch at Marks and Spencer. It was on that one occasion when I entered the store that I had to don my mask. The Covid marshall was gazing at me, and it was as if I felt her eyes piercing my soul. I was in no mood for any potential confrontation. One story less for the newspapers! But when I sat at a table at the upstairs cafeteria, I immediately whipped off my mask, not to wear it at all for the rest of the trip.

After such a refreshing meal, I sauntered through the indoor shopping precinct, maskless, until I arrived at the Riverside. This is where the River Kennet passes through an open-air precinct, lined with diverse eateries, a relaxing area, a large cinema complex, and the main car park, itself a building aesthetically well-disguised. Under the summer sunshine, the Riverside is a wonderful area to sit, relax and unwind while watching the river making its way to join the River Thames, the main river passing just north of the town.

And at the footbridge which straddles the river, two couples were occupying the public seating. Each couple sat about six metres apart. I took my place between them, that is, not less than three metres from the person on either side of me. Immediately, both couples rose up and left, leaving me as a sole occupant of the bench that lines the whole length of the walkway.

A short time later and feeling thirsty, I made my way back into the indoor shopping mall to buy a cold fruit juice. The pretty young female who served me seemed to have taken a delight in me not wearing a mask, perhaps her first such customer of the day. Afterwards, I took my drink to a lawn bordering the river, where a young man in his early twenties was sitting, alone, about 20 metres away. He gazed at me as I approached to find a suitable spot to settle. I sat down, facing the river, about ten metres from where he was sitting. He rose up and relocated further away from me as if I was the disease itself.

I sighed. I have seen this several times before, including an alfresco church meeting one evening of last summer. What has happened to us? What has become of our national reputation? What has happened to John Bull, the stoic Brit who does not flinch during a crisis but carries on regardless? The sort of people who would offer a cup of tea to a stranger, right in the midst of the Blitz, when German bombs rained over the city. This Covid-19 pandemic has English Bulldog metamorphosed into Chocolate Teapot, a phrase coined by my PhD friend Andrew.

Indeed. When passing a stranger on the sidewalk, he swerves to avoid passing too close. Another wears a mask while driving alone in his car. Yet another wears a mask out in the street. A marshall asks to put on a mask inside a public facility. A slight rise in infections and another lockdown is on the cards. Any lifting of restrictions appointed on a certain day is delayed further. And so it goes on...

The Riverside, Reading, UK. It's crowded in the Summer.

All these go on here in the UK while I hear or read about the USA, Denmark, and recently, Israel, all making mask-wearing non-compulsory. That is, it's no longer necessary in those three countries to wear masks. At the same time, news comes in about our government offering a five-day "grace period" for Indians and British holidaymakers from India to fly home before the quarantine deadline. And so, infection rises as the Indian variant spreads, thus, "Freedom Day" is delayed by a month. More recently, our Prime Minister is considering admitting up to 2,500 VIPs into England to watch the European Cup Final at Wembley. These Very Important Persons are from amber-coded countries where all other returning travellers must quarantine for ten days after arrival into the UK. These VIPs refuse to quarantine. And I wouldn't be at all surprised that they refuse to take a Covid test either.

Then one wonders why I'm rather hot under the collar?

The day spent in Reading virtually maskless was a social experiment, putting myself at risk of a rebuke from someone in authority. But actually, I got away with it. Nevertheless, while I was both onboard the train and sitting at a table, I made sure that I wasn't sitting close to anyone.

Would I do this again? Really, I don't know. Perhaps, quite likely. However, I need to take heed from the exhortation by the apostle Paul in his New Testament letter to the Romans. In chapter 13, verses 1-8, the apostle instructs us to submit to the authorities, as no authority exists that wasn't established by God, and everyone in authority is a servant of God and he does not bear the sword for nothing.

The Covid marshall at M&S in Reading was a good example. Her stare was a warning to comply and not rebel. She was a servant of God, even if she may not realise this herself. And by complying, nothing else happened.

As a Christian civilian, it's my duty to respect the Government as servants of God. But this does not prevent me from getting uptight when they make rash and apparently stupid decisions that can jeopardise the health and freedom of this country's citizens.