WELL, it’s been another funny old week in many ways. Most of us are now settling into a different routine of sorts and are doing our best to adapt to our new way of living.

But sometimes I wonder if we’re experiencing a little bit of lockdown madness.

I know I am, because every single morning I now need to check to see what day of the week it is, and I can’t remember who I’ve said what to, and find myself repeating the same thing over and over.

Walking with my sister Jean night after night along the canal and through the woods I’m not quite sure if imagination is getting the better of her too.

“Oh look, that looks just like a donkey?”

She pointed randomly at some mangled branches.

“Em, well I suppose if you scrunch your eyes up it does,” I found myself agreeing. “Oh look, that tree bark looks just like Madonna’s face.”


Next evening.

“My goodness, that’s a big dog in the field over there.”

“That’s not a dog, Jean, it’s a pregnant deer.”

And there it continues night after night.

However, my friend Laura tells me things in her household are much the same.

According to Laura, her partner David, who I know to be an intelligent guy, caught her off guard the other day.

“I had bought one of these 50/50 loafs, you know the one which has a mixture of white and wheat flour?”

“Yes, lovely bread,” I concurred.

According to Laura, when she went into the kitchen, like dominos, David had half a dozen slices flat out on the counter-top and was continuing to empty the packet until he noticed the look of bewilderment on her face.

“I’m nearly at the end and I can’t find a brown slice,” he complained.

“Yes, Janice. He thought half the loaf contained white slices and half contained brown slices.”

“What can I say, Laura?”

I wondered if other people had made the same mistake, but I’m not sure we could put that one down to lockdown madness.

However, my friend Mae definitely had a touch of something at the weekend.

According to Mae, her helpful neighbour always knows which rubbish bins go out and on what days.

“She always puts mine out with hers,” Mae explained.

“Last night I heard the trundle of wheelie bins and noticed she had kindly put our garden and bottle bins out, so I reckoned it was only fair that I did my bit and brought them back in again next morning.”

Mae happened to notice that a wee while later her helpful neighbour had put them back out again.

“I was confused so I texted her.”

Red-faced Mae read her text.

“Thanks Mae for taking the bins back in, but they hadn’t been emptied.”

Seems like we’re all a bit confused or seeing things which aren’t quite right – which reminded me of a conversation my friend Christine and I had with our good pal Raymond whilst we were out walking one sunny afternoon a few years back.

To let you understand, Raymond, amongst other things, is a painter and decorator who takes great pride in his work and is always friendly towards everyone, especially potential customers.

And on this occasion he was using his warm and funny chit-chat to win over Mr MacDonald in the hope of securing a decorating job in his Glasgow tenement flat.

“Well,” Raymond began a comical account of his working week. “I went round to give Mr MacDonald a quote, Janice, and had only been in his flat for five or 10 minutes when scanning his living room, I couldn’t help but notice a large framed picture sitting on his mantlepiece.”

We wondered where this story was heading.

“So quite innocently I said to the elderly man, ‘lovely flat you have here, Mr MacDonald’.”

Keeping the conversation flowing he added: I see you’re a darts fan then?”

After a bit of a pause.

“Me? Darts?”

Apparently, Mr MacDonald was somewhat bewildered.

“Yes,” Raymond repeated.


“Naw son,” Mr MacDonald seemed confused.

“I like to watch the football now and then. What makes you think I’m into darts?”

“Well,” Raymond went on to explain.

“I couldn’t help but notice you have a large picture of Jocky Wilson on your mantlepiece.”

Raymond then gestures to the large picture.

“So, I assumed you were a fan.”

According to Raymond there was a long uneasy silence before Mr MacDonald took a deep breath and explained.

“Son, that’s not Jocky Wilson.

“That’s my wife!”

I nearly choked laughing as Christine asked the question: “Well then, Raymond, did you get the decorating job?”

“That was a couple of weeks ago,” our pal grinned.

“But I’m still optimistic!”