YEAH, SURE SCOTT.

The COVID19 vaccine roll-out was always going to be difficult, convoluted and (necessarily) progressively staged to conserve limited quantities of the precious vaccines.

I was anxious to do my bit and roll up my sleeve as soon as I could, but I was also well aware that as a late 40’s otherwise healthy white man I would have to wait my turn. There were many many people at higher risk of contracting the virus than me.

As the politics and platitudes started spinning around Category 1A - essential workers, border and quarantine workers, health care staff and aged care staff being prioritised for Astra Zeneca doses, the news of deaths from vaccines started to take hold and scepticism and hesitancy began to spread. All the while a smirking, self-important Prime Minister and his Health Minister attempted to hose down the politics of the situation with “It’s not a race” - the vapid talking point that really stuck in my craw.

All I could see in my mind’s eye was a queue of politicians rolling up their sleeves before anyone at REAL risk had a chance to be protected.

We all know now how well the roll out went… months and months of lockdowns, and still as we reach 90+% vaccination rates the fuelling of hesitancy and noise by the raucous anti-vax minority.

The pandemic has affected my mental health. I know I’m not alone there.

I’ve become a little more socially isolated, sceptical that I can be safe in public places and unsure of the great unwashed who can’t seem to wear a mask over their nose.

I’m unsure of the future - less sure than I ever have been .

I’ve been angry at the doubters and fuellers of anti-science rhetoric, angry at people who simply don’t recognise basic scientific facts, and angry at a federal government who has failed to truly lead, handing responsibility over to the States, business owners and to individuals to navigate the confusion on their own.

This quilt was made from the business suits I’m never going to wear again - the nature of work has changed fundamentally for many people; the bedsheets that I retreated to hide in on some of my darkest days, and the pyjamas that I wore because I didn’t see much reason to get dressed if we were all supposed to just deal with things on our own.

I don’t much care that this little quilt is a bit wonky, the stitching irregular and sometimes haphazard. Life in a pandemic has been wonky, irregular and haphazard.

My optimism is slowly returning, but I’ll be forever changed by “It’s not a race.” I think we all should be changed as we remember that quote.

(This piece sold at exhibition and has made it’s way to it’s forever home)