Well here we are. You made it. Through the tedium of lockdown you have emerged into the light of a reduced normal.  Never before have we been so excited by the banal. We have been thrilled to do a little bit of what we used to do before.

Research New Zealand has been polling New Zealanders throughout the lockdown to gauge how we’re coping and how we’re hoping.

This week it was the return of freedom. Strangely enough, we were all loving that.

Then they asked what you were going to do with your freedom.

Most popular was establishing contact with friends and family, which is a no brainer, really. I phoned a friend yesterday and he had travelled for an hour to give his grandchild a cuddle and he was as happy as Larry.

Next priority for New Zealanders was having a haircut. Strange one that. I guess it’s a metaphorical cutting away of the worry that built up over seven weeks of tension.  Plus it’s a new day and a new look and now we’re feeling fine.  

It’s the same as the queues and busy times I’ve seen outside nail parlours. As a man I’ve never really realised just how much time, money and attention women dedicate to their nails.  I will be more observant and more complimentary of a good pair of nails in the future.

Many New Zealanders are aching to go to a café for a meal. To sit down and let someone cook for them and do the dishes. It’s going to the drive-thru on steroids.

And then down the rankings was leaving your local and going somewhere else.

That was the top priority for me. I’ve been in lockdown with all my family living under one roof for the first time in three years so I’m good.  I’m loving my hair and the biggest beard I’ve ever grown and I have no desire to queue for anything considering I’ve just spent seven weeks avoiding everyone.

All we wanted to do was go on an adventure somewhere other than our suburb. Which is why yesterday we went to a West Coast beach.

To get there we drove through a surprisingly busy city.  Bumper to bumper.  Past the long Lincoln Road queues for drive-thru Maccas that still amaze me.  Past the barbershops with their phone gazing men all in a line.  Past the nail parlours filled to overflowing and barely social distancing.

Then over the mountains to the sea beyond. It was perfect. Not a breath of wind. Long rollers and a warmth that felt summery even though June is around the corner.

What struck me as we drove into Piha was the handmade signs as we went down the hill.

“Residents only! Stay in your neighbourhood”

Cooped up in you city suburbs I don’t think you quite get how the far-flung places and the small communities saw the invasion of bach dwellers and daytrippers as a dangerous threat.  That every visitor was bringing the virus to town.  To towns without medical facilities.  To towns without supplies.

I spoke this week with a resident of Great Barrier who told me how the superyachts picked the island’s supplies clean much to the horror of the locals.

It makes you understand why checkpoints and roadblocks sprung up.  It was neighbourhood watch on steroids. It made me realise that the anger at the rule of law being bent lacked any empathy for the feelings of the communities under threat from people with only their own selfish desires top of mind

And it reminded me that New Zealand is just a small town now in the wider scheme of things.  Our borders closed, our roadblocks up, our doors shut and our suspicion of outsiders heightened.

We’re all in this together.  Trapped on a glorious ark in the Pacific. You should pinch yourself.  You don’t know how lucky you are.