I wonder how my parents felt during the war. Probably much the same. Their lives were turned upside down for 6 years and even when I was born there was still rationing years later. I don't expect they liked the way their reality altered from one day to the next and they had no idea if their 'restrictions' would end next week or 10 years from then or never following a Nazi invasion. But they knew that it was something they had to do to get through it and win because losing was unthinkable.
They were young then too. It must have been really hard to be a teenager with 6 years of war around you every moment of the day. I can still recall when I was little the impact of rationing and the bomb sites all around without understanding what it meant.
I really do thank God that it is their generation that lived through that trial because I am not sure today's society would have got past the first air raid siren going off without taking to Twitter saying they were too loud and gave them headaches.
Life has changed a lot of course in 80 years, but in many ways this is like our war and - hopefully - it is not going to last anything like six years. Chances are by this time next year everyone will be writing memoirs about what they did during the pandemic.
Might be good if some of the things they write or tell as anecdotes to mates round the pub were actually loosely based on the truth and not a version created after the fact because the truth would be less than flattering.
They say every generation is defined by the way it handles the big trial that at some point it will inevitably face. Manchester and Britain in the 1940s passed that trial with pride that you can still feel today.
Had they been told that all they had to do was stay inside for 6 months or a year and live on rations of normal to us - but to them - luxury food delivered to their front door when they wanted it. Or that to escape death they just had to be careful and avoid some of the things they used to do every day for a while and not have to live in shelters or (as my dad did as a teenager) stand on the rooftops in the city centre fighting fires as the bombs fell then they would have laughed with relief.
Getting old brings perspective in a way being young unfortunately never can do.
But sometimes that perspective is needed to stay sane.