It was only last weekend that I first started noticing that people were entering my local coffee shop un-masked. After more than a year, it was a startling sight - and I also noticed that, with one exception, the maskless ones were male, and on the younger side. (The exception, of course, was a young female, clearly in the company of her boyfriend.)
The same weekend, Amanda Vickery, the host of several documentaries on social history, was tweeting angrily about the men - she made it clear these were men - who were riding without masks on the trains in London. Elder daughter, who is in the first few weeks of her job in Greenwich, has similar concerns.
Meanwhile, Demeter was taken for lunch in Sidney yesterday (seventeen miles north of Victoria for those not familiar with our area), a lovely outing, but she was taken aback to see that the staff at the restaurant had uncovered faces. I haven't yet encountered a single Victorian restaurant or shop, for that matter, which has taken that step.
In Cook Street Village, a few blocks from my doorstep, the tiny plant shop is taking a stand. Literally.
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