FIVE weeks of lockdown, with just my wife and I in the house and we’re doing relatively OK – as long as we follow the Upstairs, Downstairs script.

If this strange new world should last until June 26, we’ll be celebrating our 32nd wedding anniversary in splendid isolation, with only each other for company. And, to stand any chance of getting that far, it’s best if I work in my office upstairs during the day, while she stays downstairs.

The general rules are that we have breakfast together downstairs, but I then I go upstairs from 9am to midday. We then meet up for lunch and have a walk, before we go our separate ways again for the afternoon, and reunite to watch telly in the evening.

Believe me, it’s never going to work if I spend more than my allotted time downstairs – not least because of the birds…

We were having breakfast downstairs the other morning, when she suddenly started yelling “Quick, quick, shoo them away – hurry up,” just as I was concentrating on trying to dunk my soldier in my not-quite-soft-enough boiled egg.

The reason for her animation? A gang of “greedy starlings” and a pair of “fat pigeons” that were dominating the bird feeders outside the patio window. I just happened to be nearest the window, and she was at the other end of the dining room table, so being the bird-scarer became my responsibility.

I should explain that my wife is not a fan of starlings or fat pigeons. She considers them to be the bullies of the bird world, gobbling up all the seed at the expense of the smaller, cuter birds like bullfinches, chaffinches, greenfinches, wrens, robins, various tits, sparrows and – her favourite – goldfinches.

I’ve tried being logical with her, and arguing that they’re all just birds, with as much right as each other to take advantage of the garden buffet, but she won’t have it. She’s made it clear that starlings and pigeons simply aren’t welcome.

Therefore, I have little option but to follow instructions and frighten them away. On the morning in question, I put my bent soldier to one side, stood up to face the garden, and started doing star-jumps, while banging on the window, and emitting a Tarzan-like “aaaaaaarrrggh” at the top of my voice.

Feeling confident that I’d performed adequately, I sat back down, and immediately got a rollicking: “You scared some goldfinches!” she shouted. “They were in the other tree.”

Now, I’ve lived for well over half a century and I’ve faced my fair share of challenges, but I’m blowed if I know how I’m supposed to scare away greedy starlings and fat pigeons without also scattering other birds that happen to be nearby.

Maybe I should hold up a sign - “IF YOU ARE A GOLDFINCH OR SIMILAR SMALL BIRD, PLEASE DON’T BE ALARMED – before I start my star-jumps, window-banging, and apeman noises?

Anyway, I’m sure you can appreciate why it’s so important to stick to the script and give each other some space.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

A couple from the archives…

ALISTAIR Craggs, aged five at the time, and living in Yarm, was playing “I spy” in the car.

“I spy with my little eye, something beginning with I,” he announced.

His family tried everything from ice cream to insect before finally giving in.

“I’ve had a tooth out,” revealed Alistair, triumphantly.

HELEN Stanwick, of Aycliffe, was three when she was tucking into a huge pie in front of her Uncle Jim.

“I bet that’s nice,” said Uncle Jim.

“Yes, it is,” replied Helen, who was known for being fond of her food.

“If you really loved me, you’d give me some,” Uncle Jim suggested.

Helen looked at the pie, looked at Uncle Jim, and paused before giving her reply: “Well, I like you a lot.”