On our way to Cardiff this morning R and I exercised our newly-gained freedom, by continuing to wear our masks and observe social distancing when we stopped at Michaelwood Services to pick up some takeaway coffees. We were heartened to see that almost all of the staff and the majority of customers were using their freedom in the same way, which must be an indication, I think, of how impressed the nation is with the Government’s decision to forge ahead with the lifting of pandemic restrictions despite the soaring case rate.
Over in the Principality, where health policy is in the hands of rational people and pandemic restrictions remain in place, Baby B was nevertheless celebrating his own kind of Freedom Day, as you can see. In my head my mother, who delighted in squidgy blonde babies, is beaming and saying, “That’s a very negligent foot!” I notice that it’s a slightly grubby foot, unsurprisingly given the amount of stomping about it had been doing on the lawn (though luckily managing to miss a passing worm), and a second mental voice – that of a family friend of many years standing – now chimes in too, in a broad Yorkshire accent. “I love to see a mucky child,” she says. “Because that’s when you know they’re having fun.”