The anxiety of lockdown lifting.

So, it finally arrived. The moment we’ve all been waiting for.

Pubs may open tomorrow in England, at 6am. Oh, joy.

Here in Scotland (or at least most places in Scotland), we can go further now. The 5 mile travel limit has been lifted. Holiday cottages are re-opening.

I live in quite a popular town for tourists, in one of Scotland’s two national parks. Our local community group is abuzz over road signs, littering and loitering, and the invasion of outsiders. We expect to see a surge of visitors, even though we’ve been seeing a surge in visitors over the past few weeks — regardless of the restrictions.

Anyway, the shops are opening. We can drive further. We can gather. Lockdown is lifting, and the idiots are coming out in droves.

I’m more anxious at that prospect than I was with the initial lockdown, isolation, quarantine, and sheltering in place orders.

Way back when, in what seems like a different life — I remember I was more than ready for lockdown. I realised I’d built my life to be ready for it.

We’d watched, Italy, Spain, Norway, and New Zealand all impose swift restrictions, locking in small communities, trying to limit the spread of Covid-19. I…