Pandemic risks exacerbating economic and social divisions between countries

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The coronavirus pandemic threatens the future of the eurozone by creating huge economic divisions between its 19-member states during what is expected to be the deepest recession since the Great Depression, the European commission has warned.

The EU’s economic commissioner, Paolo Gentiloni, said there was an urgent need to mitigate the inevitable exacerbation of existing social and economic fissures, as countries emerge at different speeds from the unprecedented economic downturn.

Business models reliant on maximum footfall are at odds with social distancing, leaving space for local shops and mutual aid

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With most local shops shuttered and online sales booming, it’s easy to imagine that coronavirus will deal a mortal blow to the high street. The images of empty public spaces that have come to define this crisis could be a warning of what life will be like after the lockdown, when people will fear crowds and social distancing will continue, either through self-policing or government directive.

The decline of public life is one of the biggest casualties of Covid-19. Zoom, Amazon and Netflix are unlikely to replace our human craving for it. Public discourse has shrunk to encompass the virus, while our daily lives have retreated into the private domestic sphere. Streets and public places, high streets in particular, are the physical setting for public life, and the impact of the virus is that life lived outside – socialising, shopping, working – has been almost entirely curtailed.

Social preferences, economic realities and government policy will shape the future of the high street

Related: 'It's really shocking': UK cities refusing to reveal extent of pseudo-public space

Coronavirus prompted an emergency operation to house rough sleepers in Travelodges and Holiday Inns. In many ways it has been a success – but what happens next?

To begin with, Clare Sutcliffe found the shift from sleeping in a doorway in Soho to a king-size bed in a central-London hotel very disorientating. After 15 months sleeping rough, she found it hard to relax and really believe she was in a safe space.

“The first couple of nights, I couldn’t sleep with the light off,” she says. “This might sound mad, but I was a bit scared. It was different; when you’re used to sleeping out in the open outside and then all of a sudden you’re in a bed, in a room, with a door that shuts.” When she arrived at the hotel five weeks ago, she was a skeletal six-and-a-half stone; since then, with three meals delivered to her room every day, her health has begun to improve.

(New Deal)
With his fourth solo album the acclaimed producer faces down the confusion of modern life with intoxicating calm

Blake Mills has picked up Grammy nominations for his production work on Laura Marling’s Semper Femina, John Legend’s Darkness and Light and Perfume Genius’s No Shape. However, the fourth solo album by the 33-year old Californian former touring guitarist should turn the spotlight towards his own work. Mutable Set is intended as a “soundtrack to the emotional dissonance of modern life”. Themes range from precious people and experiences to disappointment and isolation, though this isn’t conventional singer-songwriter fare.

People who love boozers always said it was the atmosphere, not the alcohol, that attracted them. The lockdown has proved us right

Some forgotten heroes – or mistreated victims, if you prefer – of the coronavirus outbreak are pubs. People who love pubs always said it was the atmosphere, not the alcohol, and people who didn’t love them thought we were just spinning them a line. Now we have proof, because we are drinking as much as we ever did and yet we complain almost constantly.

That debate has ended, anyway, because the people who miss pubs now talk only to each other. We start off complaining about the pub, then segue, almost shyly, into: “Are you managing to drink quite a lot?” “Jesus Christ, you should see the state of my recycling bin. It only got collected two days ago. Today I had to climb into it to compress the cans with my body weight.” “I actually can’t carry as much beer as I want to drink,” said one friend. “One night, I ended up buying a bottle of gin.”

Zoe Williams is a Guardian columnist