AS I get older, I find the world more confusing – and I’m having particular trouble with this working from home malarkey.

By the way, this is not related to the lockdown – my wife and I have been working from home together for the past five years, so it really should have been mastered by now.

My biggest issue is the door of her office. I haven’t got a clue when to close it and when to leave it open. Let me explain…

If ever I leave her door open after popping in to discuss something, she’ll get up and close it with a deep sigh that I can hear even though I’ve reached my office upstairs.

Now, I try to be a man who learns from his mistakes and lives by a philosophy based on continual self-improvement. Therefore, when I took her a cup of tea, one day last week, I was careful to close the door behind me.

“Don’t close the door,” she said.

Naturally, I was a bit taken aback. “But when I don’t close it, you get angry and close it,” I reasoned.

Her reply took a while to digest: “That’s only when it’s closed when you come in and leave it open. If it’s not closed when you come in, don’t close it when you go out. It’s quite simple.”

The trouble now is that I have to concentrate very hard whenever I enter her office to check whether the door is open or closed. Sometimes, I’m on my way out and start to panic because I can’t remember: was it open, or was it closed – what am I to do?

Aside from the office door issue, I’m also battling the fact that my wife has a sixth sense. How, for example, does she always know when I’m rolling my eyes and shaking my head behind her back?

“I know you’re rolling your eyes,” she’ll say, even though I’m out of her line of sight. I’ve started wondering if there’s something wrong with my eyes – that they don’t fit properly in the sockets and are making a grinding noise.

And get this – she somehow knows when I leave the toilet lid up in the upstairs bathroom, even when she’s downstairs. It’s uncanny!

In addition to this spooky sixth sense, she also has incredible hearing. She can hear me 'tut' a mile away – so I’ve stopped 'tutting' in the interests of self-preservation.

Anyway, if there are any blokes out there who need advice on dealing with any of these matters, let me know – my door’s always open.


“WHAT do you want for your dinner, Chloe?” my son asked his four-year-old daughter.

“Frog in a basket, please Daddy,” she replied.

It took a bit of working out, but it transpired that she fancied toad in the hole.

A DAY or two later, Chloe piped up: “Daddy, I was hungry as woof before dinner – but now I’m full as a woof.”

Then she noticed there were chocolate brownies for dessert.

"...I'm not full as a woof anymore, Daddy," she said.

THAT was followed by a trip to the dentist. When she came out, Chloe asked: “Where we going now Daddy?”

“We have to go home, Chloe – nowhere’s open,” he explained.

There was a pause before she replied: “Bakeries are open, Daddy.”

MEANWHILE, many thanks to Darlington grandad Terry Storey, who got in touch to tell me about the sequence of leaflets he’s been getting through the letterbox.

“I’ve had gardening services, rubbish removal, estate agents, and care home provision. Then, this morning, another one dropped on my doormat for a will-writing service. What's the chance that the next one might be from an undertaker? he wonders.