My confusing life on the border of Tiers 1 and 2

If I turn left I reach a high street where I may not meet a friend in a café. But if I turn right I could meet five friends

From magazine issue: 31 October 2020

It was almost like the good old days: the ideas flowed at my 'business meeting' in a bar. Credit: ljubaphoto/iStock

issue 31 October 2020

Text size

Small

Medium

Large
Line Spacing

Compact

Normal

Spacious
Comments
Share
Share

Melissa Kite

My confusing life on the border of Tiers 1 and 2
Linkedin

Messenger

Email

As I scoffed down a fabulous supper in a candlelit room full of ecstatic diners, it struck me that this was what the Jazz Age must have felt like.

This was a night out at what can only be described as a speakeasy, complete with live music from a crooner serenading us from a safe distance, beyond the spatter range.

The mood among the merrymakers was very much one of living for today, for tomorrow we may be either dead of Covid (unlikely) or fined for breaking draconian bans on everything, everywhere (highly likely).

Are the police to raid the homes of people in Tier 1 to make sure no one from Tier 2 is inside them?

I had been temperature scanned and disinfected at the door with such ferocity that I feared the maître d’ might insist on a full set of bloods and a liver biopsy before I was allowed to proceed to my table.