When this is over I’m going to throw back the covers of propriety, say all the things I should have said and possibly a few more.
I’m going to stagger home at night with a hot bag of chips in my hands to soak up that last unwise drink I had with friends…
Ah yes, friends.
In the flesh.
I’m going to kiss someone inappropriate and probably inappropriately. And any pinging of elastic will not involve masks.
I will sit in noisy restaurants, soaking in the chatter and the laughter, weaving my way to the loo without a single body swerve.
I’ll march into upmarket boutiques just for the hell of it, mooch for hours in bookshops, take the boat down to the Tate.
I’m going to dance on hot sand under a huge moon to eighties tunes
And dive into a sea that feels like a bath which is just as well…
Because I’ll be naked as the day I was born, laughing uproariously, loving every moment, loving this life, just loving…
And until then I will dream of this while I hang here, suspended, staring at a world I once knew through the walls of my cocoon.
Amanda Lees 2021