Stick to the rules, for the sake of Christmases yet to come - Christa Ackroyd

Well, a little. I have yet to put up the tree and drag my decorations from the loft. I know many of you have. And I don’t blame you if you have broken the unwritten rule in our household that nothing goes up until the first week of December at the earliest.

We are living with enough rules at the moment. And let’s be honest, anything that brings some sparkle and cheer into these difficult times is to be welcomed. So if you have decked the halls earlier than ever then good for you. At least I have got my Christmas cards written on time. So that’s a first.

But this week there has been both good and bad news for many of us. First the bad news. As expected, my area emerges from lockdown next week in Tier 3. That means restaurants and pubs can’t open. We can’t meet outdoors or indoors in private spaces anyone from another household, apart from for work, education or care.

However, we can meet for a walk in public areas, say in parks or the countryside. Good. That has been my salvation and stopped me emerging from lockdown the size of a house and it’s helped maintain friendships.

We can’t travel out of the area in Tier 3, or at least are advised not to. We can’t go to a football match or the cinema. But shops can open whether they sell food or not.

So in effect pretty much more of the same for us in Calderdale where, with the exception of being allowed out for a meal, from next week there will be almost identical restrictions to those we have been living under for months prior to lockdown phase two. And I totally understand why.

In my small community, infection rates are high, too high to take any risks. Forty new cases in my tiny pocket of paradise in the past week, which means infection rates in my neighbourhood are well above the 400 per 100,000 figure.

So no dilemma for me. I don’t want this virus. I have witnessed its devastating effects. Last week I went to the funeral of someone who died from Covid and it was terribly sad that more couldn’t be there or that we couldn’t give those who grieved a hug.

Human contact is so important on occasions like this and it felt strange not to be able to share our grief. But, again, I understand why. I have friends who are rushed off their feet working in the isolation wards in our local hospital and each of them is imploring us not to break the new rules.

Now is the time to stick to them so we can have some glimmer of normality. We are so nearly there. Let’s not slacken up now.

Which brings me to the good news. For five days we can see our families and friends if we stick to the three-household Christmas bubble. And that news lifted everyone’s spirits. It certainly did mine.

Oh, to be able to hug those grandchildren. To watch them open their presents on Christmas morning. To talk to them in person rather than via a video link. To feel some semblance of normality, even if it is just for a few days. Happiness wrapped up in a gift worth more than anything we could buy at the shops.

Yet no sooner had we started planning who would be peeling the sprouts, who would be bringing the Christmas pudding, we were told in no uncertain terms that the very thing we are looking forward to, the one thing keeping us going, was dangerous and risked everything we have sacrificed so much for these past eight months.

In fact, worse than that they put the fear of God in us by suggesting that by sharing some much-needed joy over the festive period with people we love, people we long to see, we are also putting them at risk. And no one wants that. So what to do?

So here is the thing. I am no scientist. I am just a parent and a grandparent. But we have decided we will have a family Christmas as safely as we can.

We will only meet one of our three households at a time. We will wear our masks if we hug our grandchildren and we will watch them open their presents at a safe distance.

We will open the windows and sit in our coats in the freezing cold if necessary so we can share our time together. We will not pass food around and we will bring our own cutlery and we will wash our hands.

If, as promised, mass testing is available in Tier 3 areas very soon, we will queue for a test and then go absolutely nowhere before we meet up for Christmas, because we need this time together.

And if you do, too, then don’t let anyone tell you that you are being foolish. We must take responsibility for our actions and try as hard as we can to minimise the risks. Because the one thing these terrible few months have taught us is that family is everything.

And if we hadn’t been allowed some sort of Christmas there were plenty planning to do it anyway, without any rules, which would have been far more dangerous.

There is light at the end of the tunnel. In the new year we will, hopefully, be invited to take part in a vaccination programme that will see an end to this nightmare.

So go for a jab. You would if you were told you needed one to travel. Do it for your family and friends, as well as for yourselves.

Until then, stay safe. Let us look after our own and not judge others harshly as they do the same. Do what feels comfortable for you this Christmas.

But above all, stick to the rules. Let us drive the numbers down.

Life is fragile but is so worth living – this Christmas and for all the Christmases to come.

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