My Covid anniversary came and went in October without comment from friends or colleagues. How could those around me fail to mark the occasion?

The answer, obviously, is that my brush with Covid came with two weeks of feeling bloody awful and no long lasting effects. I was lucky.

Back then the vaccines were still a pipe dream and it was a roll of the dice as to whether you would struggle to breath. I didn't.

The fear of the plague was different for us in the UK back then, but nobody who knows what they’re talking about claims this is over.

The arrival of Omicron (which sounds like the Transformer who stole Christmas) is only a reminder that mutations will happen as long as the disease is spreading.

And the disease will keep spreading as long as the world remains unvaccinated.

And the world will remain unvaccinated as long as the wealthy West fails to deliver on its vaccine promises to other nations and, in fact, goes further.

The UK has indeed done very well when it comes to vaccines, but we’re not an island (you know what I mean).

Without a global vaccination success, thousands will continue to die. And the UK will be at the mercy of mutations.

The vaccines have been invented, and the production lines are working – we now need governments to show the political will to get the doses to every population in the world, monied or not.