…is best known today as a football anthem and whenever the Liverpool Kop join as one to sing it there are few more stirring sounds in the world of soccer. The original song comes from the Rodgers and Hammerstein’s classic musical Oklahoma! with the 1997 Trevor Nunn  London revival featuring Maureen Lipman and our very own Peter Polycarpou being a particularly memorable production. Poignant and topical in our current turbulence. In one sense for all the wrong reasons. As we approach thirty two thousand deaths and counting, the sporting world, especially football, have given the distinct impression that the world revolves around them demonstrating unlimited hubris and self aggrandisement.

I am a football fanatic. I am even more fanatical about good health which allows me to enjoy watching sport. When the legendary Liverpool manager Bill Shankly said many moons ago “Some people think football is a matter of life and death…I can assure them it is much more serious than that”, I would have agreed such was my fanaticism at the time. However, these unprecedented and extraordinary (most oft used adjectives since the outbreak) times demand a little humility and realism from us all, even highly paid and mollycoddled footballers. The football world has been regularly obsessing about their loss of revenue should the Premier League season not be completed. All other major sporting events have been cancelled. Players have finally made a “substantial” donation to the frontline charities and some are even breaking rank and talking about not feeling safe enough to play again. Hallelujah, some sentience and thought at last. Maybe it’s not just sawdust and inflated egos between the ears.

The timing of their tantrums could not be worse. Last Friday the country paused to remember those who gave their lives to secure the freedoms and liberties we cherish today. VE (Victory in Europe Day, 8 May 1945) was a landmark moment in history for which we should be ever thankful. Listening to Dame Vera singing “We’ll Meet Again, Don’t Know Where, Don’t Know When” still brings out the goosebumps, even more so right now. Maybe the footballing family (their description not mine) should also pause and contemplate. And if that fails then consider this – “Walk on through the wind, Walk on through the rain, Tho’ your dreams Be tossed and blown”. So you’ll never walk alone but you are in danger of losing credibility and support.

Bringing merriment to my day were the ad-hoc, improvised street parties that I came across while wandering lonely as a cloud. All socially distanced and very jolly. Well lubricated folk getting into the spirit by dressing up in wartime clothing, polka dot skirts, flat caps and Union Jack bunting fluttering in the warm afternoon breeze. And cockney singalongs including my favourite Let’s All Go Down the Strand (‘ave a banana) Perfect springtime entertainment. “Keep smiling through, Like you always do”. Today we are all smiling in anticipation of the prime minister’s evening address which in time honoured tradition has been trailed, leaked or spun. You decide. Sounds like a minor tweak rather than a major change. Which is just as well because every survey has shown that out of all the European countries, we are the most cautious, afraid really, about relaxing the lockdown measures too soon. That includes baby boomers, millennials and generations X and Y. I can envisage a generational civil war breaking out in some households should that change.

I decide to wait for the prime ministerial declaration and in the meantime find distraction with a glimpse at some of the online health and well-being sessions on the recommendation of an octogenarian friend who idolises the Green Goddess (Diana Moran). I’m exhausted by the choice so decide on cooking therapy. For the first time in ages I am back in front of a stove, donning a Christmas apron to improve my mental health. My improvised bolognese is given a thumbs up and the lip licking cats pleases me no end.

One hundred days into the pandemic (in British response timing), every day feels like Groundhog Day. Weekdays, weekends all come and go without differentiation. Can Boris break that repetition and bring clarity Churchillian style? Just finished listening and if you, like me, were expecting clarity “gala na bathede” for not managing your expectation. Stay alert. Go to work, don’t go to work. Use public transport, don’t use public transport. Meet two people, no one person, in the park but take a megaphone. Fifty page document coming tomorrow with all the details. “Walk On, Walk On, With Hope in Your Heart, And You’ll Never Walk Alone…”