WRITING on the 75th anniversary of VE Day, I am not feeling part of the nostalgia fest. But I’m moved by it nevertheless, as if in lockdown we can hear our dead relatives calling for to us to be resolute.

What a lovely old Churchillian word that is, meaning to re-solve. But now we have a Churchill wannabe in charge who can’t find the right word for anything, despite — or because of — a posh classics education. What cruel comparisons: WWII to Covid and a literate unifying figure to a figure of fun.

As a 49er, I wasn’t around for VE Day but had a ration book and suffering relatives. There was much talk of “the war” and fear cast a long shadow that the welfare state helped mollify for kids. We felt special and safe, while knowing that people we loved had been through the terror of bombs or combat. Now we fear the Covidian assault within.