I admit it, I’m confused.
Up until last Friday, I was pretty clear about what Nicola Sturgeon was asking us to do to keep everyone safe.
I understood why the steps being taken were needed and important.
But she has lost me a bit with the no booze inside at all, no food inside after 6pm, but out you go and freeze your bits off if you fancy a pint and a takeaway burger at an outside table up to 10pm.
I had to Google whether or not I was OK to have a beer on the Stonehaven Harbour wall after my Sunday afternoon walk, as is my wont.
Also, what’s the difference between me sitting inside having Sunday brunch with a fine beer or a Bloody Mary, as opposed to being kept on the Irn-Bru?
Yes, yes, I get the whole thing about boozy folk hugging their chums and telling them “I love you, mate, I really do”.
But I have yet to see much of that break out on a Sunday teatime. Well, there was that once, but it was years ago.
So, for the first time since this nightmare started, I have my head tilted to one side saying “whaaat?” at the restrictions.
Not just because it interferes with what passes for my social life at the moment, but also because of the absolute kicking it gives the hospitality industry. I mean, ouch!
Sure there’s a £40 million package on the table, but that won’t go far, especially with the blanket shutdown in the Central Belt. So you can’t blame our pubs, restaurants and cafes for asking for solid evidence the heavy sacrifices they are making for a long 16 days will work.
But these are the restrictions which our experts say are needed and we need to follow them. Lives are at stake.
Which brings us to the impossible task of trying to balance the harms of coronavirus. How do you stop people catching the disease and dying, while not destroying the fabric and foundations of your society?
What are the greater risks to health and wellbeing? Easing restrictions so people can live their lives again, or letting coronavirus scour through those most vulnerable?
For the record, let’s not have any truck with the notion that losing some 85-year-olds isn’t too much of a price to pay for getting normal lives back. Imagine that 85-year-old is your mum or dad, or your nana or granpa. In years to come it will be you. We don’t have disposable people in our society.
I would not want to be Nicola Sturgeon right now. These are life and death decisions being made daily in the teeth of a global pandemic.
I admire her calm, level-headed approach and her candour – especially her frank admission she has and will make mistakes along the way.
I’d rather have someone like that leading our fight against coronavirus than the bullishness and bluster that seems to drive policy in some quarters.
Do I “get” the current restrictions. Not really. Will I follow them? Yes.
It’s the right thing to do. We’re all in this together and need to stay that way.
An MP who speaks up for me… yes, please
You know that thing about your MP being your voice in Parliament and speaking up for you? Could I have one of those, please?
Unfortunately, I am lumbered with Andrew Bowie… the modern-day incarnation of Harry Enfield’s Tory Boy, but without the laughs.
Over the weekend, Mr Bowie tweeted about how wonderful the Internal Market Bill will be. That’s the one that breaks international law and has been refused consent by Holyrood because it’s a naked power grab by Westminster in the post-Brexit chaos the Tories have created.
Here are Mr Bowie’s words: “And this Internal Market Bill, is just the start. The UK Govt is back in Scotland. Get used to it.”
So, our rightful masters are back in charge and telling us to shut up and know our place.
It matters not a jot if we don’t like what they are saying, they know better than us poor, simple Jocks.
Hmm, remember when we were being told the UK was a partnership of equals? Clearly Mr Bowie didn’t get the memo.
And he must have missed the bit where his own leader, Douglas Ross, had a go at Westminster Tories for making the case for independence better than the SNP.
Perhaps Mr Ross should call his colleague for a chat… even if just to find out if his mobile phone ring tone really is the Star Wars Imperial March.
In running? careful what you wish for
Excuse me while I tap the chocolate cookie crumbs out of my keyboard…
Where was I? Oh yes. Exercise. I’m not doing any. I blame coronavirus. Without any organised runs this year, I’ve not bothered training to get into shape. Unless, I choose to become a sumo wrestler.
So, when an email popped up inviting me to enter the ballot for the London Marathon, I did.
I’ll hear in January, but even the possibility might be enough to get me out and running again. Besides, this is my fifth attempt to get into London and I would be 60 if I do. Surely the fates will intervene… or should I be careful what I wish for?