TUESDAY’S unexpected unveiling of a positive roadmap to recovery from a surprisingly optimistic Nicola Sturgeon – a major step forward in our route back to normality which could see the ending of all social distancing and other oppressive coronavirus restrictions in Scotland on Monday August 9th – came as quite a shock. And as welcome as this news was, I had to pinch myself and phone a friend or two, just to make sure I hadn’t, through wishful thinking, dreamt up it all up.

Hailing the success of the vaccine rollout across the country, the First Minister signalled "a return to complete normality in our day-to day-lives" from that day. It will be Scotland’s Freedom Day, as long as the vaccine rollout targets continue to be met – principally that most over 40-year-olds have been double jabbed and there there are no new worrying vaccine-resistant variants discovered.

All going well, and with most adults vaccinated, we could see an end to all social distancing, indoors and outdoors, and working from home – if employers allow. There will also be an end to capacity restrictions at weddings and funerals, full capacity crowds returning once again to football matches, sports grounds, theatres, music festivals, events, gigs and dare I say it, nightclubs. A monumental day of destiny, a welcome return to normality and cause for celebration which Dr Liz Cameron, chief executive of the Scottish Chambers, said was “the moment businesses have been waiting for” and that “they can finally breathe a sigh of relief and plan ahead”.

So why am I not breathing a sigh of relief? Why am I not feeling elated about the lifting of restrictions or becoming overly excited about the promised return of normality? Why am Inot rolling out the bunting in advance of Scotland’s Freedom Day?

I am one of Scotland’s most passionate supporters of the NEC (night-time economy), live music and licensed trade, and since the beginning of the pandemic I have continuously stuck my head above the parapet to vociferously berate and criticise the Scottish Government for not properly engaging with those vital sectors, in particular the NEC, who have been left languishing in lockdown limbo for over 16 long months. It has also almost contemptuously been excluded from previous government tier levels. So you might think that I would be happy that we have now been included in their new strategic framework, we have been given an indicative reopening date, and an end to this hellish journey is in sight and happier times lie ahead.

Well, you would wrong, because as much as I welcome the announcement, the lack of clarity and detail contained within the framework on what mitigations might still be in place come Freedom Day, fills me with a deep sense of foreboding and dread.

For example, will indoor fresh airflow still be an issue and if so, what will be the government standard that premises would be expected to meet in order to operate? And then there is the worrying ambiguity surrounding the issue of non-legal government advice; what if they decide to announce that for whatever reason they would rather a certain sector, like nightclubs didn’t open? This beyond level zero advice would be open to all manners of interpretation not just by local licensing boards but by a premise’s insurers, who may well under the circumstances be unwilling to provide cover, a decision which would effectively close the place, destroying that particular business. These and many other important issues need addressed before I will be happy.

Everything at the moment just seems too good to be true, a bit too heady and unbelievable and I just can’t shake off that awful feeling that after the parliamentary recess something more ominous lies in wait for the industry, and I don’t just mean another variant. One swallow does not a summer make but in two months’ time it might prove to be the last summer for many.

My current malaise could also be down in part to the crushing disappointment I felt after Scotland crashed out of the Euros, the most poignant example I can give of an expectant nation again blindly building up its hopes, only to have them brutally crushed. The other example is Scottish businesses trying to weave a precarious path through a pandemic.

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