Why the art of reading another person has become much harder with masks

There have been unexpected advantages to covering up, writes Christine Manby

The received wisdom is that we smile with the eyes (Tom Ford)

Masks. It doesn’t seem that long ago that they were a rarity on public transport in the UK, seen mainly on the Piccadilly Line, gracing the faces of particularly cautious travellers freshly in from Heathrow. They felt like a rebuke, though of course the rationale behind them was actually one of ultimate politeness. “I’m wearing this mask to protect you.” And now they’re everywhere for that very reason. They’re mandatory. And it feels like they’re not going anywhere soon.

At the beginning of lockdown I tried to get hold of some masks. I wanted to send some to Mum, so she might feel confident enough to go out for a walk or to the corner shop. Finding them was impossible. A friend advised that only the sort of weapons-grade masks used by the US army were of any use and they were going for the cost of a small car on eBay. Cheaper masks had delivery dates months hence. In any case, it felt almost rude to wear one of those horrible blue paper things that are now ubiquitous when nurses and care workers were posting videos of themselves crying at the end of their shifts because they didn’t have adequate PPE. Now my local Co-op has five-packs of disposable masks piled high at the tills. One can’t help wondering if government guidance has followed the availability of masks rather than their utility.

Back in April, my neighbour kindly gave me a paper mask from his own supply. Steve Next Door was well-prepared for lockdown. His virologist mother had warned him it was on its way back in January. It’s thanks to Steve’s mum that I put in a huge Ocado order in early February and still have enough toilet rolls to see me through the rest of the year, a no deal Brexit and a nuclear winter.