Some winters are more beautiful than even the most exquisite summer. Against the snowscape outside, the pubs shine with firelight and good cheer. In a season that is both hedonistic and introspective, the thrum of shopping competes with the chirp of sledging youngsters as ambient sounds. You almost bribe a passing orphan to carry the largest goose in London town to Bob Cratchit as soon as possible. This will not be one of those winters. As I write, several nations are re-entering a state of lockdown, but without the novelty and grim humour that characterised the first. Remote employees' ability to take a mid-afternoon constitutional will mean a lot less in the cold and dark. Outdoor eating will be bleak for those who have taken the unusual decision not to reside in Los Angeles. Families that only meet once a year will be brutally separated. The general population is aware of all of this. It explains the massive anti-lockdown protests I've been hearing about: the coronavirus cul