Concentration can guard against embarrassment

Sage advice stands Fiona in good stead but ‘look before you leap’ may have been a better motto after a motorway services mix-up

Travelling on the train I sit next to a man with a huge bag. It is so bulky he is having difficulty putting it anywhere. We are all hemmed in by this container. To defuse tension, I ask if there is a body in there. No-one laughs. It is too early in the morning for dark humour.

But I am nosey, so I plough on. And discover that what is in there is a parachute.

The man with the big bag was once in the army and now he helps run a sky diving company.

There is no way I could do that sort of madness. I am the one who gets dizzy at 20ft.

You would have to push me out kicking and screaming. But others are not so lily-livered.

The chief has jumped out of two planes. First as a teenager at Strathallan airfield. Then over Kent when in the army.

He remembers if vividly. Too vividly. The first time he nearly struck a fence. The second, he landed in a far-off field.

His father would have told him to get a grip. Sir Gregor MacGregor of MacGregor did it dozens of times.

Then he was in the First Guards Parachute Battalion after the Second World War. The family recalls his advice: keep your head and concentrate.

My head is definitely up there in the clouds earlier in the week.

I am driving north back to Scotland when I stop at a motorway services to have a rest.

I lock the car, go inside the shop and buy a sandwich and a newspaper. I then come back out, unlock the car and get back in the driving seat.

I start to eat the sandwich. Egg and cress, if you must know. I open the paper and begin to read.

I am half way down the politics page when something doesn’t feel quite right.

In the corner of my eye, down in the passenger well, I notice a pink toy. A furry rabbit.

Funny, I don’t recall the MacNaughties having one that colour.

Anyhow, I munch and read on. What a mess the world seems to be at the moment. I sigh and stretch out, catching my hand on the gear stick.

Ouch. Must watch out for the gear stick.

Hang on a minute. This is the chief’s car and it doesn’t have a gear stick. His car is an automatic.

This is not my car. I am eating my lunch in someone else’s vehicle

I turn my attention to the back seat. Which comes complete with baby chair and bag of nappies.

This is not my car. I am eating my lunch in someone’s else’s vehicle.

I guiltily gather up the half-eaten sandwich. I stuff the paper into my bag and get out.

Pretty damn quick. I have been sitting in a strange unlocked motor. And somebody with a child, too. Can you imagine the scene had they returned?

Yes, Fiona, the moral is, keep your head and concentrate.

Picture: Getty Images. The simple act of eating a sandwich in the car turned into a bizarre incident for Fiona.