AS was widely circulated on Monday, the Goffs teams, both in Ireland and the UK have implemented a work-at-home policy for the time being. As many families are finding, this is a challenging discipline – children are at home, and while my wife may have married me “for richer and for poorer”, it is becoming clear that she had not envisaged doing so “for lunch”.

I am not sure how well I am performing – I even found myself fascinated by a television advertisement for a gadget that sucks air out of plastic sacks packed with clothes, increasing suitcase capacity by extraordinary margins. Not a good sign – that was only on Wednesday and my head was being turned by daytime online shopping. I even started a beard growing competition with a stranded colleague which, unlike most things, is actually going quite well. Indeed there has been more growth in two days on the southern end of my head than on its northern regions for two years.

Aside from these frivolities, the challenges facing bloodstock auction houses, and those needing to sell stock are significant. Many sales, particularly the upcoming breeze up sales, are aligned to the racing calendar and, like turkeys at Christmas, it involves a lengthy lead in preparatory time to a relatively narrow selling window. This too has brought social media commentary, much of which underlines the valid concerns of everybody involved.

Like any machine, the polished exterior of the auction business is backed up by many component parts, several of them of a complex nature. I did therefore feel somewhat patronised by a tweet this week that read, “I think there’s a lesson for thoroughbreds (sic) auctions in how art house are adapting to #COVID19 which you can read about here – Digital, interactive viewings, Vetting as standard for piece (sic) of mind, Professional photos to help freelancers.”

Although his attached article referred to a €270 million art sale, all the services outlined above have been in place for several years with the absentee lots at the Goffs London Sale, which the said tweeter may even have attended. Secondly, should we follow the example of art auction houses, who regularly charge commission that earns them 30-40% of the sale price (compared to 7.5% at Goffs and Tattersalls Ireland)?

Art and furniture is also deposited with auction houses months, if not years, presenting far fewer logistical challenges than a dispersed bunch of thoroughbred horses.

Unlike form horses and breeding stock, unraced and untried horses are hard to sell unseen and, like a bride on a wedding day, they are often not ready to be filmed until relatively soon before their intended sale engagement.

It is perhaps just as well that I know nothing about infectious diseases because the frustration of just one ill-informed tweet has certainly irked me, though hopefully not enough to prevent us all from being ready to provide the best solutions as the situation unfolds.

SIX weeks have passed since their mauling in the general election but some of the electorate undoubtedly see the Fine Gael three of Varadkar, Coveney and Harris in the same light as a bunch of horses that are performing better in their second season than they did in their first. Let’s hope that they can keep it up when the calm becomes the storm.

A major difference for today’s leaders, compared to those facing the grave challenges of the past, is the never-ending social media, which can be, on occasion, the equivalent of consistently throwing stones at fire engines.

Social media companies should not suppress free speech, and cannot be held accountable for people making unpleasant comments. However, I think that it is regrettable to enable repeatedly pernicious comment from anonymous contributors. If the social media platforms had been around in 1945, I wonder if D-Day would have gone ahead.

As my own routine is becoming defined, I am accessing regular, but not constant news, and am avoiding social media commentary from unqualified commentators. Most importantly, I am tuning into some top-class comedy at least once a day, some of which can come in the course of my work.

Speaking to clients this week, I was amused to hear of somebody who had seen a value in buying 20 wooden scythe handles recently for a fiver.

You cannot get a much more simple uplift than that.

Another client, not significantly older than me, but with a head of grey hair, shared his indignation that he had been told by his local Tesco to come at 9.00 in the morning when they were making special provision for the elderly. I was able to comfort him with the story of a mutual friend in his 50s on the London underground recently. He was standing in the aisle, when he caught the eye of a young lady sitting a few seats away.

Thinking that perhaps that he was still as attractive to the fairer sex as he had always (believed himself to have) been, he responded with knowing look, all sorts of thoughts flicking across his mind. Until, that was, the young lady rose to her feet, looked him in the eye and asked, in front of the full carriage, “Would you like my seat?”