IN the days when he was in gainful employment, my husband had a desk in the Edinburgh office of his newspaper. Phoning the editor in Glasgow one day, he mentioned that he had not actually occupied this chair for the best part of a decade. To his boss, who had assumed he was shackled to a view of St Andrew Square, this came as a revelation. His physical absence had not been registered. Nor had it mattered.

Journalism, of course, has always been a less regimented or formal profession than most, if indeed it can be called a profession. At one point the news desk of the paper I worked for had a map pinned on the wall, Dad’s Army style, with red pins indicating the probable whereabouts of reporters.

These tended to be clustered around the drinking howffs of the Royal Mile, but could extend as far as Lochinver or Carlisle, the furthest reach of the car pool whose engines, like supermarket trolleys fitted with sensors, had a tendency to seize up when they strayed too far from base.

For the moment, despite the relaxation in Covid rules, employees who can work from home are still entitled to do so. How long that will last is not clear. Recent rumbling from Westminster suggests an employer-staff stand-off on the horizon, the mood darkening by the day.

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The first shot was fired by Chancellor Rishi Sunak, who said that without close contact with colleagues and the friendships he formed, he would not have got where he is today. He urged young people to get back to the office, hinting that promotion was more likely if you are present in 3-D rather than on screen. His timing wasn’t great, though. Shortly after extolling the benefits of the office, his own line manager roared “Where’s Rishi?”. When – perhaps wisely – he did not appear, Boris announced he might soon demote him to Health Minister.

An even more ominous note was later struck by a dinosaur minister who questioned the work ethic of Whitehall’s remote-working officials. Some of them might have been swinging the lead these past 18 months, he suggested, and all of them had effectively enjoyed a pay rise because they no longer have to commute: “There doesn’t seem to be a great enthusiasm to get back to work,” he said, ignoring the billions of home-hours already clocked up.

“People will find that those who get on in life are those who turn up to work.” This led to a hasty chorus of retraction, in which it was clarified that, although there is indeed a concerted push to encourage civil servants back to base, those remaining at home would neither be obliged to take a pay cut nor be less eligible for promotion.

All of which, I fear, is merely the stuff of phoney war. Ahead lies a gruelling and protracted campaign, with each side taking cover in the trenches, whether they be in the office blocks of central Glasgow or the heathery Grampian hills.

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Adding to remote-workers’ arsenal of arguments is the latest proposal, from the think tank Common Weal, which suggests that, to combat climate change, the right to work from home should be enshrined in Scots law. Remote working, says its report, “saves energy and time” , and this option should now be given legal protection.

Am I alone in thinking this bonkers? The climate emergency is inarguably the top priority of all nations, but the way to reduce emissions is to change attitudes and habits, not enact legislation that might hamstring the economy and endanger people’s careers. The benefit of fewer commuter cars on the road will immediately be undercut by millions of inefficiently heated and lit homes and ever-boiling kettles.

Although I risk sounding like a Whitehall panjandrum, getting back to the office is an essential part of our Covid recovery. The long-term benefits will not just be economic but psychological. The problem is, attitudes to the workplace have undergone something close to a revolution since the pandemic struck. We’ve discovered new and better ways of operating. Meetings that once involved long journeys, often internationally, are now conducted online. Many tasks are done as well, if not better, from a kitchen table as in a noisy communal space.

Millions of lockdown puppies have been bought, requiring lunchtime walks, and thousands have relocated to country and coast, beyond easy reach of their old desks. As a return to the office looms, some are pre-booking hotel rooms for when they have make an appearance, to reduce their nightmare new commute.

Yet for all the comforts and convenience of remote desking, if society is to get back on an even keel, spending at least half the week in the office should become standard practice. Given the sea-change in opinion, to insist on this will doubtless be interpreted as draconian or despotic. Yet employers need, and indeed have the right, to talk face to face with staff, to gauge how they are doing, both personally and in their work.

In some sectors, productivity is as measurable remotely as in person. In others, it rockets when people can throw ideas around spontaneously. The chemistry that creates inspirational initiatives evaporates online. And while it’s possible to disguise emotional issues at arm’s length, direct contact is much more revealing and supportive.

Not for a moment do I believe that everyone wants to stay within their own walls, at the mercy of cold callers or washing machines on the spin cycle. Nor do you ever escape the office if it’s sitting in the corner of the living room, like big brother’s eye.

Far from legislating to allow people to stay at home, it’s time to embrace the workplace. At the very least, flexible working means getting the best of both worlds. So, as children head back to the classroom, employees should make for HQ.

It will help the high street, whose shops and cafes have been languishing without their regular weekday customers. It’ll help workers to feel connected, part of an organisation bigger than their spare room. It will give businesses and organisations a shot in the arm. And it will make getting home feel great again.

Our columns are a platform for writers to express their opinions. They do not necessarily represent the views of the Herald.