Five Years After Lockdown

London went dead.
No boozers.
No gigs.
No barbers.
Screens glued to faces.
Hair wild.
Silence. Ghost town.

We came back.
Pubs rammed.
Gigs sold out.
Trains late.
Fear sticks.
Cough on the tube — instant flinch.

Survival? Brutal.
Clap on doorsteps.
Netflix binges.
Zoom hell.
Shaggy heads.
Scruffy beards.
Drink. Faith. TikTok.
Families broke. Rebuilt.
Communities pulled. Fell apart.
Real resilience.

Lockdown fashion? Accidental.
Sweatpants armour.
Messy hair identity.
Living rooms gyms.
Kitchens offices.
First haircut after? Heavy.
Not vanity.
Reclaiming self.
Reclaiming routine.

Recovery isn’t stats.
Or money.
It’s trust.
Shoulder to shoulder.
Pints with mates.
Hugs without fear.
Packed trains.
Barber’s chair.
Soap. Aftershave.

Lockdown left scars.
Messy hair.
Frayed routines.
Scruffy
Proof we survived.
London survived.
Grit. Pure grit.

London, lockdown survival, messy hair, urban resilience, post-COVID life, working-class, pubs and barbers, scrappy survival, coping with fear