THE time has come to embrace the simpler things in life. If we are to be stuck indoors for the foreseeable future, then it ought to be viewed as an opportunity rather than an imposition. The great philosopher Larry David himself this week offered the sage advice that “nothing ever good comes from going out of the house”. And it is difficult to argue too vehemently with that.

Procrastination is no longer a waste of time but an art form. Faffing for hours, wandering from room to room not achieving anything in particular beyond filling time, is now something to be cherished rather than scorned.

Exchange texts with friends. Put some music on. Scroll through Twitter endlessly. Click on a link, read the article, and then follow on to the next one. And the next one. And one more after that. Disappear down the rabbit hole for so long that you can’t remember why you were reading about that particular subject in the first place.

Make coffee at hourly intervals. Take an eternity to stack the dishwasher as if it were a giant game of crockery Tetris. Open the fridge to inspect the Best Before Date on every item. Wonder why nobody ever eats the leftover lasagne. Is it even lasagne? Best not to check.

Consider – and then put off – going for a shower. At least five times a day. Check occasionally that the kids are still alive and functioning in some capacity. Then go back to your phone, laptop and/or bed.

The slower pace of life isn’t for everyone. If you’re the sort of person who would usually cheer enthusiastically at an invite to a networking event rather than recoiling in horror – as would be the natural reaction – then perhaps these will be difficult times for you. Some people just need to be outside and interacting with the rest of the world.


For many of us, however, the notion that Seinfeld - the afore-mentioned David’s show famously about nothing – has become our reality is a turn of events to be cherished.

There has always been something to savour about the mundane. For anyone who has ever been to a day at a Test match, for example, it has always been about far more than simply enjoying live cricket.

With each inning often unfolding at a glacial clip, it is impossible to give over your undivided attention for the entirety of an eight-hour stretch.

Instead, the action almost fades into the background for large spells as our attention drifts to other matters.

Conversations amble along at no great pace and in no particular direction. Sandwiches and flasks of coffee are fetched from rucksacks, biscuits and sweets shared around. Newspapers are read, folded away and then revisited later. There are regular trips to the bar. And the toilet. It is the essence of existentialism, simply living in the moment and savouring the sheer simplicity of it all.

The ideal soundtrack for this life in the bus lane is of course Test Match Special (TMS), a programme that manages to simultaneously keep listeners abreast of the latest developments in the match while also entertaining them in their imitable, irreverent style.

The antidote to some of the breathless television broadcasters who can’t help reminding you at every opportunity that the particular match you’re watching is the BEST ONE EVER!!! – simmer down, Sky Sports – TMS tends to gravitate more towards the surreal and the absurd. Much like life itself.

In among the cricket chatter about late cuts and cow corner, there will invariably also be tangents to appreciate home-baked cakes, bushy beards, knitting, the joys of making your own soup, notable B roads around Britain, and vegetables that look like popstars from the 1960s.

Even without any cricket taking place for the time being, we could all still do with some TMS in our lives. Beam Tuffers, Aggers, Jim Maxwell, Michael Vaughan et al into your house via video call and allow them to provide a running audio commentary to your newly-created mundane existence. It would be wonderfully soothing.

Scots still turning up their noses at this Prozac for the ears – and at cricket in general – and viewing it as a strictly English affair for toffs and snobs are missing out.


In Jake Perry’s new book – reviewed in Friday’s Herald – he delves into Scottish cricket’s rich heritage and explains why even now it is still this country’s summer game. There are around 18,000 registered players with clubs all around the country, with even more turning up to watch them from clubhouses and pavilions.

It is a fascinating sport. There is much to be admired in an expertly-timed pull shot that sails over the boundary for six, or an inswinging yorker from a bowler that scatters a batsman’s stumps.

Frankly, though, you don’t even have to be a huge cricket fan to appreciate everything that goes on around it.

When this lockdown is finally over and we are allowed outside again, a trip to the Grange in Edinburgh or Glasgow’s Hamilton Crescent ought to be in order. Get a pint, stroll around the boundary, chat to your friends, sit in the sun and relax. There’s not much to it. And we’ll all have had plenty of practise at doing nothing by then.