PRIOR to lockdown, I got together with ex-colleagues whom I hadn’t met up with for several years, and going round the table, each of us took it in turn to update everyone as to what they had been up to in the missing years.

“Buenas noches, cómo estás?”

“Eh?”

Agnes beamed as she showcased her newfound linguistic skills.

“I’ve been studying Spanish,” she proudly announced.

And after further Spanish chit-chat, which I could only feign an understanding of, the focus turned to Bev, who hob-nobs with the good and great of Glasgow.

“Yes, well, I’ve just been to the launch party of...”

I nodded a lot and drank wine until it was Kim’s turn.

“Yeah... blah blah blah... I’ve written a couple of plays and...”

“Oh no,” I thought to myself, dreading my turn.

“The most exciting thing I’ve done is gotten hair extensions and joined a gym!”

However, thankfully, I was intercepted by June.

“Well, girls... I’m thinking of going to ballet.”

An awkward silence ensued until June asked: “What do you think, girls?”

“Ballet?” Agnes finally broke the silence (but thankfully not in Spanish).

“Ballet?” another queried.

“Yes, ballet.” June was oblivious to our bewilderment.

And the reason we were somewhat bemused at June’s revelation was that she is only about 4ft 6inches tall, curvy, and in her early 50s, which made it difficult to visualise her elegantly pirouetting, especially as she had only just returned from the toilet and had clumsily bumped into a nearby table causing all sorts of mayhem.

Trying to put a positive spin on June’s idea I asked how long she’d been thinking about doing ballet.

“Oh... it’s always been my dream. And, my daughter is keen to go with me, so it’ll be good for us to make memories together.”

“I bet!” I muttered to myself.

“Only thing is... June chuckled.

“I think I’ll need a few glasses of wine just to get me there.”

“Eh?” We thought June had lost the plot.

“Yes, well, I have a fear of flying and it’s such a long way away.”

By now I wished June was speaking in Spanish – because she wasn’t making sense.

Ballet... lifetime dreams... flying. – the penny dropped.

“June,” I dared to ask.

“Do you mean your dream is to go to Bali in Indonesia?”

“Yeah, of course, where on earth did you think I was going”?

I laughed all the way home as it reminded me of a similar night some years back.

You see, back then, my son Ross was a typical teenager, so attempting any sort of conversation was like pulling teeth. Yet again, when he returned from his weekly RAF cadet training, he barely got through the door when I asked how his class had been.

Ross just shrugged.

“Anything exciting happen?”

“Not much.”

But as he turned to head into the kitchen he muttered: “We’re all going backpacking to Iceland.”

I stopped in my tracks.

“You’re what?” I thought I was hearing things.

“The cadets...” he mumbled.

“We’re all backpacking in Iceland.”

“Iceland,” I repeated. “Iceland.” I began to visualise Ross in this wonderful faraway land.

“Well, that’s just amazing Ross.”

Ross grabbed a drink from the fridge, and, emotionless, turned to head to the sanctity of his bedroom.

But I couldn’t help myself.

“You could at least look a bit excited Ross.”

No response.

“Do you know, Ross, when I was your age...” I found myself ranting like my mother. “The furthest I ever got was Strathaven with the Sunday school.”

Without breaking for breath, I added: “And don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong with Strathaven, but we just didn’t have the chance to go to any of these wonderful places young ones can today.”

Next minute I’m on the phone to my sister Jean.

“Jean, Jean, you’ll never guess where Ross is going?”

“This wee adventure might just bring him out of his shell,” she added. “And I’ll buy him his backpack.”

Next minute, I’m on the phone to my friend Christine.

“Christine, you’ll never guess where Ross is going...”

Half an hour later I came off the phone and grabbed a pen and paper to make a list of essential shopping items for Ross’s northern expedition.

“Ross... Ross!” I roared.

“Come down here and we’ll make a list of everything you need for your adventure in Iceland.”

Ross threw himself on the sofa.

“Adventure?” he said with exasperation.

“Mum, I’m bag packing in Iceland.”

“Yer what?”

“Yes,” He drawled.

“The cadets are packing customers’ bags in Iceland in Coatbridge to raise funds for our club.

“Hi Jean, you know I said Ross was going to Iceland...”

Oops!