I’m so bored, I’d even be happy to visit north London

I genuinely thought that once the older and more vulnerable of us had been jabbed, we’d all be free to jaunt off on our hols – apparently not, writes Jenny Eclair

Happier times: sunseekers on Hampstead Heath (Getty)

Just last week, health secretary Matt Hancock was asked on BBC Breakfast whether people should “book a holiday or not book one”. He responded with, “it’s neither”. This, despite the fact that he has his own jolly in Cornwall already reserved for the summer of 2021. Aaaaagh, no wonder we’re so confused.

Personally, I would love a holiday. I’m so sick of the sight of my own neighbourhood that even a few days in north London would be a change of scene and I don’t even like north London.

As a 60-year-old with no underlying health problems (apparently short-sightedness and chronic cracked heels don’t count), I am hoping to get my vaccine any time over the next couple of months, possibly sooner, as similarly aged mates in next door’s borough of Lambeth have already had theirs.

Strange how people who used to be coy about their real age are owning up to it as soon as that vaccine call comes. No one’s pretending to be 50-something anymore, not when there are perks to being a tiny bit over the hill. Whatever the wait, it’s worth it. I think we all agree the national vaccination rollout has been spectacular, but the icing on the cake would be a green light to book a holiday.

I genuinely thought that once the older and more vulnerable of us had been jabbed, we’d all be free to jaunt off on our hols. But according to the NHS website, because “there is a chance you might still get or spread coronavirus even if you have the vaccine”, it looks like we’re going to be grounded until the entire adult population gets the needle.

In some respects this is fair enough – just think how grim it would be for young people, already so screwed over by the pandemic, if us annoying old boomers got to go on holiday first. Imagine the fury if we were set free to frolic on beaches in our enormous one-piece swimming costumes, showing off our varicose veins and staying up late at night in caravan parks being rowdy with the Scrabble tiles.

While we wait until guidelines for the great 2021 get away become clearer, I spend a lot of time daydreaming about where I would like to go. Ideally I’d like some kind of magical, whistle-stop tour of the world, taking in all the best sights around the globe. There’s so much that I’ve never seen: Niagara Falls, Death Valley, the pyramids, the Taj Mahal, Russia’s Red Square. Already I realise that there won’t be enough time or money left in my life to tick off everything, so in future, wherever I choose better be good, because I have neither time nor cash to waste.

Looking back at my old holiday photos, there are noticeable gaps. I’ve never done the paradise island holiday, trekked the Great Wall of China or been on a safari. I’ve missed out on whole continents and cultures because I always thought, “maybe next year”. And then came Covid and, like most people in 2020, I didn’t go “away away”. In fact, the furthest my partner and I managed was a weekend in the Calder Valley and a few days in Cornwall. Weirdly, looking back at those trips while stuck in the freezing February lockdown of 2021, both look wildly exotic and carefree.

Until we are allowed to globe-trot again, I take vicarious pleasure in travelling via the telly. I get my snow kicks from watching Scandi crime dramas, a taste of Utah via an interiors show called Dream Home Makeover and if I fancy some beach and sunshine then there’s a world of films that can whisk you from your sofa to the south of France via a Netflix subscription. All you need to do is Google “movies set on the French Riviera” and for a couple of hours at least, you can visit the Cote D’Azur.

I’d recommend you do this in the company of Cary Grant in To Catch a Thief. It’s not the same, but it’s better than nothing. Maybe watch it with a little bowl of salted almonds and a chilled lager? As if you were actually sitting in a beachside cafe. Oh, and wear your flip-flops. If anything, this pandemic has taught us to use our imaginations or go mad.

In order not to raise my hopes too high, I’ve decided flights are probably going to be off limits this summer and that with any luck, 2022 will be the year for straw hats and kaftans. Until then, we’ll be having a vacation somewhere in the UK. Obviously it would be great if the sun shone and I was near a sandy beach and I had a room with a view but to be quite honest, as long as I’m not sleeping in my own bed, eating off my own plates and going for a walk in the same park, then it’s going to feel like an awfully big adventure.