Here is a stimulating portrait for us to brood over in these disconcerting times. It is late in the evening. The constable neatly places his shoes in a corner outside the room and enters. He pours a little sanitiser on his hands and rubs them together, cautiously removes the mask and pockets it, and proceeds to sit on the floor. He is careful not to sully the uniform.
He opens the food packet given to him for what will be the first meal since early that morning. He has been toiling for hours in the special control room set up by his superiors, attending to calls from the public and communicating information received to field units.
He is getting married in a couple of months and for a brief minute, allows himself the luxury to daydream. But he must hurry. He has to be back at the desk within an hour because his replacement has called in sick with mild fever and a persistent cough. That means a further eight hours of duty for him.