I AM not a religious man. When facing mortal danger many will resurrect long-suppressed feelings of religion.

Yet, even as I prepared to go on to the surgical table to have my left lung removed along with the malignant tumour growing inside it, I didn’t think to say a prayer.

The operation didn’t prove as successful as my surgeon and oncologist had hoped and the cancer remains. Maybe I should have said that prayer.

On a wing and a prayer

Now, with Covid-19 wreaking havoc around the globe, it’s almost certain people will turn to their “local” faith for comfort, help, mercy or even the chance of an afterlife.

The fact that I have been given the opportunity to write a column for a newspaper published on the Sabbath is perhaps an omen – a sign for me to rekindle a faith lost since 1973 when I reached the age of 16 and declared myself an adult non-believer.

My dad was an elder in the Church of Scotland.

He made sure that my older brother, sister and I got a good grounding in the moral compass of life through our local Spiersbridge Church.

But, to be honest, I think he was a little relieved when he’d seen us all out the door and he could pull back from Kirk responsibilities (having done his parental duty) and spend Sundays at his beloved Whitecraigs Golf Club instead.

It is said that good men are often taken too early ... and that was certainly the case with my dad.

George McLaws only got to celebrate the first birthday of his first grandchild – my eldest daughter.

He died at the age of just 64 in June 1984, when I was just 26 and before he got to share the joy of seeing four more grandkids enter the world.

I always regarded it terribly unfair that my dad died so young. We missed out on sharing so much.

And yet here I am aged just 62 years with lung cancer and undergoing chemotherapy amid a global pandemic that heightens my vulnerability to maximum levels.

It seems I have crammed much more of my family life and career into my earlier years. I already have nine grandchildren who love to call me granda or gramps and whom I love dearly.

I’ve had a good innings so far and hopefully things will continue that way for a while yet.

I’m not ready for religion yet ... but in chemotherapy and immunotherapy I trust.

Bible quiz

To prevent this “diary of a man in isolation” adopting the tonality of the Rev IM Jolly I want to suggest a cheery Sunday alternative to the midweek quiz shows that have been attracting record viewing figures throughout lockdown – Tipping Point, The Chase, Tenable and Pointless to name but a few.

The new Sunday show would be hosted by men and women of the cloth. It would be a religion-based quiz show that I could apply to take part in.

With a bit of home studying and the assistance of a home video camera I’d reach the final stages.

Quoting from the Bible the host would say, as was said unto John “come forth and receive eternal life” ...

And, knowing my luck, I would come fifth and win a weekend for two in New York that would need to be taken before the end of the year.

Day of reckoning

In keeping with the biblical theme I do believe that – in general terms – people really do reap what they sow.

There’s something very profound about that saying. For everyone there will be a day of reckoning.

It might not be related to eternal life or even one of damnation … but you’ll get what you deserve one way or another.

Let’s hope so.

When this is all over I’d love to see the Britannia Hotel chain bosses get their just desserts for evicting staff and making them homeless.

Same also for the arrogant billionaire boss Mike Ashley who demanded his Sports Direct staff kept his tills ringing as Covid-19 swept the nation.

Equally so I hope we never forget to repay the kindness and fairness displayed by small local firms and even corporate giants when things get back to normal.

Thought for the day

For about half of us our jobs can be done from home.

The other half deserve more than they are being paid.