We were driving back from somewhere the other evening and I remarked how light the traffic was, it was only just gone nine and there was barely any other cars about, and barely any other people on the pavements. Tonight we walked round the village delivering Christmas cards, and as we wandered along the middle of the road at about eight o’clock, I mentioned again that it was very quiet, a Friday night and barely anyone around. I have written here in the past, when the world was normal, about my delight in walking back from the pub some time before midnight and relishing our peaceful village, and enjoying wandering between the darkened houses, the roads empty of any vehicles.
Of course the roads are quiet now in the evenings, from the time those who still are able to go to work get home. Barely anyone goes out in the evenings now it’s winter, where would they go? No pubs, no clubs, no gigs, no theatre, no cinema, no restaurants, bars, cafés, places to meet friends, places to relax and chill, places just to be other than home. No-one is driving to meet friends or family, no-one is going to reading groups, evening classes, band practice, rehearsals, social and educational get-together, or any of the hundred and one other things people do in the evening in times when we are free.
This isn’t a complaint, it isn’t a moan, it’s just an observation. The current well-worn phrase is ‘it is what it is’… indeed, just so.