You stop moving altogether, so does the parcel
Diary of the last 36 hours
2.30pm Sunday
We arrive home from being out all over the show in the usual Level 1 manner: dinner last night with friends, hugs in the usual Level 1 manner. Masked-up on the ferry, a ride through the unrelenting whiteness of the Americas Cup quarter and two trim lattes thanks.
Along Westhaven marina, stopping to admire Owha, world’s most curious leopard seal languidly ripping shit out of a strip of polystyrene and doing a gentle water waltz with it before biting off another chunk to the delight of the gathered Mums, Dads and kids.
Then on to all kinds of spectacles of joy at the Big Gay Out.
You will surely eat well at a gay event, worth it for the Smoked Brisket taco from the Texas Taco Trailer alone. And it’s a lovely scene. Bright, brassy, warm, a place where people feel welcome to express their authentic self.
Not you Covid, you absolute POS. You're authentically not welcome. There are signs everywhere, QR codes, QR code costumes. A truly dedicated Covid Warden sits at our bench and I compliment them on their hilarious costume and a photo shoot ensues.
Once I have scanned in using the QR code on their skirt, I am invited to apply sanitiser to their improbably sunbaked boobs. Everything in the usual Level 1 manner. Nothing as worrying as people in huddle in a bar or singing their lungs out in a choir.
Through it all the sun is fairly baking us, and if the blazing sun were all it took to kill the virus there would not be a trace of it in Tamaki Makaurau.
2.30pm
Oh no. Press briefing. Tamaki Makaurau has fresh traces of it.
Minister Hipkins and Dr Ashley are here to give us the score and the words being stood up in gold letters ten feet tall are: Abundance Of Caution.
We’re waiting to learn more about where it came from and where it could have gone, and no, nothing’s changing right now but the PM is on her way to Wellington.
4.35pm
Mum, on the phone from Wairarapa says: it feels like something that just happens in Auckland.
I say well yes, it’s showing up in the place where it arrives from overseas, but don't forget that if it gets liberated and there are no controls it doesn't take very long at all before it’s monstering every Hereford breeder with a glass in their mitt at a conference in Queenstown and moving from person to person by hug and handshake and pash all over a Bluff wedding, and before you know it you've got hundreds infected and she’s all on for young and old and that’s why we play this deadly serious game of pass the parcel because if you really properly stop moving, so does the parcel.
Also I say: I really wouldn’t be troubled if we have to go back to level 4.
7.00pm
The nice lady from the cover of Time is back at the lectern, and just like when you were waiting outside the classroom and the teacher came out with a strap balled up in his hand you kind of know what’s coming even before they start talking.
The words in gold letters letters ten feet tall once more are Abundance Of Caution along with Going Hard and Early Which Has Served Us So Well Before.
There you go Sparky! Good thing you really wouldn’t be troubled if we have to go back to level 4. Here, have three days of it! Maybe a good bit more.
I do wonder a little: will it be different this time? Could people be a bit less willing to go along with this?
Also I’m wondering, will we still be pulling our boots on next week in Tongariro? Maybe not.
Will I still be having surgery in three weeks? Maybe not.
8.30pm
The Royal New Zealand Civil Defence Ahoy Aotearoa Mayday Mayday Service gets all up in my phone just as I'm stretching out on the couch. Holy mother of Jesus, this is the first time it’s hit when my phone isn’t on mute.
It jolts me right back to the NuclearPalooza doom movie The Day After, but with a little more urgency.
[intercontinental ballistic missiles are being fired]
Cynthia : What's going on?
Joe Huxley : Those are Minuteman missiles!
Cynthia : Like a test, sort of... like a warning?
Joe Huxley : [shakes his head, staring at the missiles in awe and disbelief] They're on their way to Russia. They take about 30 minutes to reach their target.
Aldo : So do theirs, right?
Not to worry, it’s just a lockdown.
Do a thing 10,000 times and you’ll make yourself an absolute champ at it, they say. So 9997 lockdowns to go, then? Nah, we know how this goes. We know what to do. We know how well it works: deadly serious game of pass the parcel; you stop moving altogether, so does the parcel.
Today 7.00am
Here comes the answer to: Will it be different this time? and Could people be a bit less willing to go along with this?
I measure it by looking down the drive and counting the frequency of cars going past. Way down. You stop moving altogether, so does the parcel.
8.30am
Every drama needs a ludicrous cartoon character of a villain and the NZ Herald appears to have stuck up its hand this morning, proposing such risible shit as: Is an abundance of caution too much?and Is this overkill for three cases? and Can we afford a lockdown?
These are actual questions being asked in an actual newspaper, acting as though we have don’t have an object lesson from the UK about the shitshow you get if you try to have a bit more economy and ask the virus to please respect the five second rule and take Boris seriously.
It’s a laughably-simple-to-learn lesson: you stop moving altogether, so does the parcel.
MTAF reader Jenene writes:
Let me put this very succinctly: fuck off @nzherald with your divisive click-baiting. This helps absolutely NOBODY.
Pop up leader Judith Collins, for whom the panto spotlight is always shining, has Hoskingesque lines to offer.
The time is well past for us as a country to have constant threats of lockdowns and economic ruin for small businesses and their staff.
FFS.
The nearer you get to stopping everyone moving, the better. That’s how you shut the virus down and wipe it out. And we’ve done that. The smartest thing we can be doing is go on doing it, and accept that we’ve chosen the least-bad option and any better option is imaginary.
4.00pm
A post cabinet press conference that will seem to run for about four hours begins with a droll bit of actual LOL from Dr Ashley, saying Covid can feel like a rollercoaster that you haven’t bought a ticket for.
It’s followed with news from the PM that the first batch of Pfizer arrived at 9.34 am - good thing we have those borders still open a bit eh - with enough vaccine to immunise 30,000, and they’re planning to start vaccinating on Saturday.
Meanwhile we wait to see how how far the traces of virus have gone in the wild, and we put our faith in the plan that Has Served Us So Well Before.
I’m good with all of it. Except for the phone bit. I’m putting that back on mute.
4.20pm
When lockdown comes, a song is not enough on its own. Here, have some top oop North entertainment courtesy of MTAF reader Paul - hi Paul! - and an hour and a half of Morcheeba.
Had a post-op chat online with my hip surgeon today. He says that operations are able to proceed if they are dealing to a genuine condition causing pain and/or danger to health. Best wishes for an unencumbered process - after an enjoyable Tongariro trip.
Put this out there as a public service announcement.