Everybody laughed – or at least snickered a bit – when that really clever politics expert came a cropper during a BBC World interview on his specialist subject of South Korea. Remember that?

Sure you do. Professor Robert E Kelly became an instant internet sensation and global media star when everything went embarrassingly pear shaped, courtesy of his gate-crashing children who’d burst in on him gleefully, breaking his seriously knowledgeable flow.

What larks!

There’s nothing like a dad out of his depth, silently praying for Scotty to beam him up into a known comfort zone, for exercising the giggle muscles.

Especially when he’s doing his best to be super-important.

Mumbling apologies, he tried gently to push his daughter away; closed his eyes, hoping to make himself invisible, as his little stroller-racing son trundled in after her; then waited with visible mortification for his wife to drag them away – on her hands and knees.

He’d been trying to detail the serious implications of – er, something or other. Who remembers now?

Anne Pickles Whatever it was, his enlightenment of the trials and tribulations of working from home was far more insightful… and entertaining.

If you’ve never tried it, you should. Especially if you’ve been used to working among lots of people in an office.

Home working is a revelation. Excuse me – the kettle’s boiling.

You don’t need to have children cluttering up the place to provide distractions.They come from all over the place.

And when they don’t, you make your own, without even knowing you’re doing it.

Believe me. I’m there.

“I saw Cranstons on television last night. Now I understand!”

Sorry. An old school-friend, who now lives in London, has messaged after watching Kate Humble’s Back to the Land from Cumbria. Dead impressed by her being impressed with my butcher, it would be rude not to engage.

And another pal’s weighed in with scathing astonishment at the price of muesli.She’s seen the programme too.

Well, you know how it is. If there’s suggestion our muesli is overpriced, there’s no option but to respond defensively.

Not that I ever touch the stuff. The Devil’s food, is muesli. Porridge, on the other hand… Now, where was I?

Ah yes, the kettle.

Funny old business, working from home. Pluses and minuses in abundance.

On the upside there’s no schlepping into a designated workplace on dark, damp mornings – or back home again, all wrung out, in the late evenings.

Whatever it is you do, you can usually manage without an early alarm or the need to pack a lunch. Well, nearly whatever.

And, should you be so inclined, a dressing gown is perfectly acceptable – dresscode wise.

Less positive are the little things that interfere with concentration – which I’ll tell you about when I’ve finished emailing photos of our latest Northern Lights performance to friends and family who are (unfortunately) over-urbanised, poor things.

They might think they’re the bee’s knees because they have Harvey Nichols on their high street but they don’t get free, dancing light shows in their night skies.

They don’t get to drive out in their slippers, on a whim of distraction, in pursuit of Aurora Borealis just for the fun of it – thus missing the middle bit of Holby City.

Who needs new season fashion anyway?

The way things are going, we Cumbrians will be in winter woollies until July, which is a cost saving not to be sniffed at in this continuing austerity age – and considering the price of muesli.

Apologies. Distracted again.

That’s the principal downside of home working.

What’s required is self-discipline, with which I have always struggled.

It’s one of my better qualities. So, let’s see; where was I going with this?

The professor, I think.

Yes, he who worked from home and went weirdly viral as a result.

Not because he knew every cough and splutter of the impeachment possibilities in South Korea but because he showed the world that even very clever, ostensibly organised and disciplined people can be distracted by little things.

Human things.

I liked that. So, I laughed.