It felt, as my wife Anthea called it, like we were playing a little Russian Roulette. We went to a wedding a couple of weeks ago for a dear friend … and I caught Covid there.
It knocked me around probably the average of way most in the ‘CoronaClub’ have been hit. I had a fever for a few days and a dry, frustrating cough. My family was forced to isolate with me, but apart, for seven days. And that was the worst symptom. I really found myself missing entrenched and undervalued forms of human interaction – a kiss from Anthea, a cuddle with my adult daughter Ebony and a stereotypically blokey punch on the arm for my teen son Ronan. Then there was the secondary contacts that I couldn’t find. I couldn’t attend my local cricket club or visit my sisters or go along to a planned weekend away with old friends. I couldn’t give my little niece Brodie a cuddle and tell her she was silly when she cried upon hearing I had Covid. Nor could I do the same when the same reaction came from Anthea’s 99-year-old Grandpa. Isn’t it a peculiar and insidious thing that the media does, so frightening both ends of the age spectrum? So my message today, as you prepare for the start of the 2022 school year, is just to look out for people who are missing their people due to Covid. And be very mindful that you could, in fact, be the most important people in some of your students’ lives. They’ll be missing you. Keep fighting that good fight, |
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