THE PRISONER OF COVID

                                          THE PRISONER OF COVID

Minutes passed to hours, that turned to days, that stretched to weeks, months and years.

Time flexed and waned like a stretched elastic band or condom that had been expanded to its limit, and lost is flexibility. Life was now static and rigid.

Locked in to a daily routine of banishment from civilisation and humanity, time passed slowly for the inhabitants of the leafy outer suburbs of the metropolitan world.

Unlike those who reside in the green belts surrounding the worlds metropolitan areas, and the broad swaths of verdant countryside that lay outside the grip of urban sobriety, the city drudgery was uncompromising and grim, and extended to the outer commuter belt.  

Many fell in to a deep depression as the silence and boredom took its toll on the mental health of previously fit and healthy individuals.

 Tempers were  stretched to their maximum, and even a visit to the grocery store or supermarket was like you had received a day of remission from your unwarranted and relentless punishment. A day at the races or a day trip to the seaside was off limits, as was any enterprise that took you away from the ever encroaching and  enclosing walls of your registered place of residence. 

Like a scene from a dystopian movie, you would leave your front door checking that your mask was in place and scanning for passers bye who may have the audacity to encroach on your allotted two metre zone of sanctuary.

 Having confirmed that the immediate area was clear of infiltrators, you could embark on your journey scanning all round for enemy action and being prepared at all times to take evasive action to evade potential invaders of your two meter exclusion zone. 

You continue along your well planned route constantly scanning for interlopers and rule breakers, your eyes constantly looking for offenders and rogue joggers and cyclists. Each vehicle, be it a  parked car, van or lorry is a potential risk, as passengers sit silently entombed in their carriage awaiting to unsuspectingly pounce as you pass. A clue is often a running engine, but you can easily be ambushed by the silent menace of vehicle squatters.

As restrictions eased. additional encroachment's by infiltrators were soon to establish a space on the pavements and pathways of both suburban and rural England. Pretending to escape the confines of there premises for exercise, most were undoubtedly making their way to a friend or relatives home.  

To be continued.........