MY FATHER, Johnny Di Ciacca, was a great one for lecturing us children.

Sitting at night at home in Cockenzie, huddled round the telly, it took one thing to catch his attention and the volume would be turned down and, among exasperated groans from us all, he would begin.

His intentions were good: to share what was concerning him, to warn us of dangers, finally completing his message with a reminder of recent and not-so-recent misdemeanours. 

“It’s just like a broken record,” he would bemoan.  And he was right. 

As he repeated his message, we gradually switched off, mentally turning his volume down. We’d heard it all before. We understood what he meant. But did we?

Margaret Davidson, a canny Scots lady who looked after us, had a far more effective method of managing us. She went straight to the point: “If you play on the beach alone, you’ll be stolen by pirates!” We never ventured that far.

It is troubling, that the latest Government instructions to ‘stay home, save lives, etc’ has become a bit of a broken record. We’ve heard it all before, we understand what they mean. But do we?

The evidence shows all too clearly that we don’t.

The NHS is overwhelmed with sick people. Patients are queuing for care. Some get frustrated, become angry and aggressive at staff.

NHS staff are caring, empathetic and hard-working. They are highly respected professionals.

They are also mothers, wives, fathers, sons. The relentless physical and mental pressure of coping with the tsunami of work is overwhelming.

Sickness and self-isolating mean those on the frontline are in real danger of buckling under the strain. 

We need to wake up. Each and every one of us must heed the broken record.

Or as Margaret would put it: “This virus is just like those bandits ransacking the Capitol in Washington. It’s trying to push its way into your home, into your family. It’s trying to kill you! Now will you stay at home?”