This bit of the pandemic is quite confusing – nobody knows how much freedom they’ve got

This bit of the pandemic is quite confusing, isn’t it? How much freedom should we allow ourselves now that it’s up to the individual to decide?

Well, a week ago, I was at Latitude festival, where 40,000 people gathered under strict Covid entry rules to hang out together, mask-free, for up to four days. I played it very safe on site: stayed one night and have tested negative for the virus in daily lateral flow tests ever since.

It was a good job, too, considering that a few days after the festival, I was visiting my 92-year-old mother in her nursing home on the northwest coast.

Here, the rules are very strict – weekly visits are still limited, masked and by appointment only. All guests are tested before entry, and under current regulations I’m still not allowed to take June out for some fresh air in her wheelchair. This is something I find a tad frustrating, because after a year of being stuck indoors, she really could do with some vitamin D on her face.

That said, I believe that if you entrust a relative to a residential nursing home, then you must abide by their rules. If you don’t like how they operate, its up to you to choose a different home – not expect them to change the rules to suit you.

In any case, when you’ve kept Covid off your premises for 18 months, I think you are entitled to keep a tight grip on how things are done; even if (in this case) I think they’re erring too far on the side of caution.

Thus is the dilemma: with the rules being left up to the people, lots of people don’t like how lots of other people are interpreting those rules. It’s all very woolly.

Public transport in London (in my limited recent experience) has been at its most masked since the pandemic began. The message is clear: masks are mandatory, unless you are exempt. My local supermarket is also very mask-compliant which slightly surprises me, considering that at the height of the pandemic, it really wasn’t.

But then I got an Avanti West Coast train up to Preston and the carriages were divided 50/50. According to the company’s website, “to protect yourself, other customers and our colleagues”, you should, “wear a face covering when travelling with us unless you’re exempt. If you’re travelling within Wales or Scotland, you must wear a face covering (unless exempt) when you’re at stations and whilst onboard the train in line with local government guidelines”.

So basically, masks are advisory but optional, until the train crosses the border into Scotland when they must be worn. My train was the 10.10 from London to Glasgow – so presumably sometime just after lunch, masks suddenly appeared.

Who knows? By the time I disembarked at Preston I hadn’t heard one announcement concerning mask-wearing; be it advisory or mandatory.

My small connecting train from Preston to Lytham was mostly mask-free, but every window was open; and as the wind blew through the train, I was glad that my mask was protecting me, not only from any stray germs, but from the bitter cold. Hello, summer holidays. I’ve never seen so many children with blue legs heading for the seaside.

Safely back in London and having talked to a friend who (despite being double jabbed) has been laid low with Covid for three weeks and is still suffering from extreme fatigue and tinnitus, I am still confused as to how much freedom I should allow myself. Do I go to the cinema to see that Sparks movie – or wait to watch it from the safety on my sofa on Amazon Prime?

I’m desperate to drop in at my local pool for a swim, but it’s still operating the same strict “lane only” booking policy it employed over a year ago, and I can’t get a slot to suit.

Everything is in a mess. The messages are mixed: do this, but don’t do that. As a performer, I’m desperate to gig again, but will my audience find the confidence to turn up at the venues? And if they do (oh, please do) should they be masked? It’s up to them, but should I say anything? And if I do, how hypocritical would it sound coming from an unmasked performer standing on the stage?

While all of these questions buzz around my head, I’m currently waiting indoors for the result of a PCR test. This was performed early this morning by a medic who visited my house in order to give my throat and nostrils a good swab.

Why? Because I’m doing telly tomorrow – and it’s part of the deal. This is totally cool by me, I welcome the reassurance (as long as it’s negative) because whatever happens in the studio, it will be nice to feel fully relaxed, knowing that everyone has been through the same procedure.

Honestly, who’d have thought that being thoroughly tested for a killer virus would be just as welcome as a fat fee, posh car and a complimentary professional hair and make-up job?