Remote romance and the common cold

The ultimate in unhealthy holidays

These early experiments were instrumental in advancing scientific understanding of viral transmission, and they relied entirely on human volunteers to allow the virus to be observed in its natural host. The alternative would have been to use chimpanzees, but they were ruled out as being too expensive. Humans were cheaper and, it turned out, could be persuaded to participate through the offer of free accommodation and food over a ten-day countryside stay.

The human guinea pigs who took part in ten-day residential trials were either administered with a cold virus or a placebo in a double-blind trial. Once the viruses had been administered, the fully gowned and masked staff waited from a distance in anticipation of the first sneezes erupting. Every day scientific staff studiously recorded the symptoms of the volunteers, even weighing and counting the number of snotty tissues they produced.

Over its four-decade history, the unit became a well-established hub of virology research, as well as, more bizarrely, a much-loved budget holiday destination. Based in the Salisbury countryside, with free food and lodgings, the trials were advertised as a holiday at government expense. It may seem strange to us now that people would choose to self-isolate AND get a cold – but during a time of post-war scarcity, the offer of a free ten-day break was not to be sniffed at.

The CCU promoted the centre as a cheap holiday resort for wedded couples, boasting that: “Young married couples, and older ones alike, enjoy the rest for ten days from housekeeping and cooking.” Other participants included students wanting quiet time to study, aspiring writers seeking inspiration, and those who simply wanted to benefit from the beautiful surrounding countryside. The popularity of the unit proved infectious.

Finding creative ways to connect

For the experiment to work, it was essential that the volunteers were socially distanced. This was important so that the observing scientists could monitor how colds were spread. Volunteers who signed up to the scheme were housed either alone or in pairs or threes in repurposed wartime Nissen huts.

Only married, heterosexual couples could share accommodation, and individuals were otherwise matched with others based on shared interests, or housed alone. To avoid cross-contamination, participants had to remain at least nine metres apart from those housed in other Nissen huts. Staff reminded volunteers that a “thoughtless breach of isolation can ruin the whole scientific trial, and create havoc, and waste all the expenditure of time and money and effort”.

With this stern warning in place, the volunteers were free to play games, read and explore the local countryside while they waited to see if they got a cold.

Much like today’s conditions of isolation and boredom, people found innovative ways to form romantic connections from a distance. In fact, the CCU almost seemed to encourage it – as one press release put it: “Isolation is not as bad as it seems. All the flats are connected by phone, so you can talk to that smashing blonde in the next flat.”

Flirting from afar

On arrival volunteers would be given a list of other participants’ names along with an information sheet, which included a hint on how to conduct flirtatious contact: “Chatting up other volunteers in a different flat can only be by telephone, or at a very long range outside.” One medical student recalled that he and his friend would use the participants’ list to identify single women to call and chat to.

Sometimes these calls would then lead to games played over the phone, including noughts and crosses, chess, and charades, plus socially distanced walks. On the receiving end of some of these phone calls, a female volunteer recalls long conversations with a few men who would give “histories of their lives which were, I think, largely fictional”.

In this strange environment many friendships and relationships blossomed using creative methods of communication, including semaphore, from one flat to another, and secret ‘lovey-dovey’ notes passed under the door. One volunteer even got his guitar out to play songs at a distance to a woman in a neighbouring flat, who would join in on her cello. This surely proves that long before the Oasis song ‘Wonderwall’ inspired myriads of dubious serenades, men have felt the need to get a guitar out at any unsolicited opportunity.

One unmarried couple housed in adjoining flats got permission to go for walk holding opposite ends of nine-metre string. Apparently, during “an early stage of the walk the string collided with the trunk of a tree and folded back on itself, still taut, bringing its ends – and the lovers – together”. While this story does feel a bit like a ‘Carry On’ film in its comedic value, it shows the lengths we will go to in finding connection with someone at a distance.

We are naturally sociable creatures who are used to being around each other, so lockdown is a real struggle for lots of people, who face social isolation, mental ill health and the adjustment to a strange way of life. But our archives show that it’s not the first time we’ve had to be creative in how we stay connected.

As the world’s leading scientists grapple to control and understand today’s global pandemic, we have been thrown unwittingly into the biggest social experiment of all time. But at least we’ve got the internet.