Yes, masks are a choice now – it’s wise to choose them
'Oh, how I longed for the inevitable lurking face cover. Instead, I stood there stewing in plague air, fantasising about open windows and fresh air', writes Jennie Ridyard.
‘I imagine many South Africans are putting their masks in drawers or bins, what with the lifting of the mask mandate’. Photo: iStock
I threw all my unused disposable masks in the bin. I didn’t mean to. I intended to put them in a drawer.
Equally, I didn’t mean to put all those old receipts on the compost – they were meant for the bin. And as for my umbrella in the fridge…
My son says I have brain fog. After all, I have just recovered from a short, sharp blast of Covid-19. However, I’m the person who recently misplaced a dishwasher tablet, only to discover I’d put it in my tea.
I agree I have brain fog – I know Covid-19 isn’t the main culprit.
And now I imagine many South Africans are putting their masks in drawers or bins, what with the lifting of the mask mandate.
Here in Ireland, we haven’t had to wear masks for months.
For a while, it was still compulsory on public transport, but now it’s a free-for-all: do what you like, do whatever makes you feel comfortable.
That’s the theory.
I hadn’t been sick for over two years, and clearly masking and sanitising played a huge role, so I continued wearing my mask.
Sometimes I was the only person on the bus who bothered.
Except somehow it got to the stage where I felt odd wearing a mask, as if I was navigating the world presuming that everyone else was unclean, the Great Unwashed, and I was somehow pristine, special, not going to breathe in other people’s used air, thank you very much.
So the mask slipped.
It spent more and more time in my pockets and handbags until the day I found myself at the crowded opening of an exhibition, mask-free.
It was indoors, I was against a wall admiring a piece when suddenly someone tapped on the mic and speeches began.
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They went on for almost an hour, and I stood there in my warm and airless space, trapped, feeling like a crouton in Covid-19 soup.
No one wore a mask.
Oh, how I longed to rummage in my handbag for the inevitable lurking face cover, but I didn’t want to be making a fuss, implying those around me were diseased.
Instead, I stood there stewing in plague air, fantasising about open windows and fresh air.
Yes, I got Covid-19.
Yes, masks are a choice now. Sometimes it’s wise to choose them.
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