The Moral of this Story is...

I was on a bus today. As usual I was stealth-hating the people who weren't wearing masks and, actually there weren't that many. Just three I could see. But they were types: the tall guy who looked like Bible John, with his tidy, side-parted auburn hair. He had expensive trainers and was carrying a high-end sports holdall, and I thought "I've got your number, mate. You're Ginger Djokovic. You think you're immune to the Covid because of your gym toned, power-shake chugging physique, and you don't see why you should have to wear a mask because you still think, after two years, that the mask is supposed to protect you and not others. And besides, how can you have Covid because of all of your reps and curls and burpees? Yeah, I vaguely know what those things are. 

Sat in the central aisle was a woman with a spray tan, her blonde hair scraped back. Beneath her coat was some sort of white uniform, and I thought she's a beauty therapist or something. She'll have some bullshit, hippy wind-chimes and dream-catchers reason for not wearing a mask. A variation on gym bunny's but with added spiritual bullshit. I seethed at her. Quietly. 

The last one was a pretty girl in glasses, and my rage was sort of dissipated and lacking focus there, because she didn't look like any of my lazy prejudices. There was clearly more going on here than I was prepared for. She looked pretty cool, so it was actually more annoying than the other two. In days gone by, when music was tribal, I used to like the certainty of knowing what people listened to by what they wore. When all that went away I was bereft, and now here was this girl with her secret history, being unreadable. Rude. 

At this point a tall frail looking man shuffled down the aisle of the bus, pausing only to tell some giggling teenage girls behind me that they were "ugly cunts". He stood in front of the pretty girl, and was clearly in a bad way. He was wearing a mask but he seemed very unwell. Not Covid unwell - falling over unwell. He had a fist full of bank notes and dropped a tenner on the floor. I saw it, the pretty girl saw it. Bible John saw it. The women in masks sat opposite him saw it. No one did anything. Then, the beautician got out of her seat, picked up the tenner, handed it to him, explained where it had come from and why it was his, and then offered him her seat. And she stood for the rest of the journey. Even though the bloke got out of his seat about five minutes later and carried on wandering down the bus, bumping into people and swearing at them.       

And I thought, what a horrible man I am. Sat in my seat, masked up like the speak-no-evil monkey, and judging everybody I see. This woman - mouth and nose puffing contagion in a clammily confined space - had done something kind and decent for a man, though he was clearly not very pleasant, just because he needed help.  Because it was the right thing to do. Whereas I, responsible member of the public attending faithfully to the scientific guidelines, had sat on my fat arse and watched a wobbly old drunk lose his beer money. It was chastening. 

It's hard, after two years of this bullshit, not to judge people for not wearing masks. Susan and I have lived like hermits. I've gone from being man about town to man about living room. I have an old geezer's shuffle. We've never had Covid because we've tried really hard to hide from Covid. The only place I could possibly have caught it was in the queue for my booster jab.

I don't know everyone's circumstances. I don't know what's going on in their world, and the most altruistic act I witnessed today was from a woman with a naked nose and mouth. I'll try and be less judgmental in future. I know nothing about her, I made a few wild assumptions based on her appearance. I know nothing about her beyond a simple act of kindness. 

But she should have worn a fucking mask.