I could do that...

Just some of the things I know I could do, should the occasion arise.

Things I 100% believe, despite having no training or experience, based solely on seeing them on tv or in movies, that I could do:

1. Survive a zombie apocalypse. I’m up to date with The Walking Dead, Fear The Walking Dead and Walking Dead: World Beyond - we don’t yet have Dead City in the UK - and feel with my experience of watching the fighting from the comfort of my sofa, that I would be one of the core characters still standing. Maybe not a leader, but up there. I see myself as a Michonne-level fighter, without the katana, because it looks a bit heavy. And without her toned muscles. And a bit chattier, more jokes. And a smattering of Carol’s penchant for baking. My shortbread needs to be shared post-apocalyptically. 100% would be a contender.

2. Emergency tracheotomy. Someone is suddenly choking, airway blocked, the only way to save their life is to create a new breathing hole. This is where I step in. I’ve watched enough Chicago Med to have perfected this. “Someone give me a pen, or a straw, just not those paper ones, and a sharp knife… or any knife really, what with it being an emergency” I shout, taking charge. I lean over, reassuringly patting them on the head, telling them they’ll be fine in just a minute. I forego rubbing any alcohol on their neck - as a recovering alcoholic, best I steer clear. I feel around a bit, prodding their thyroid… I think that’s the thyroid, but I don’t have time to see if it feels like a butterfly. Right below there, that softer bit, kind of a dip, that’s the spot, I think to myself as people crowd round, shouting, panicking. I draw the blade across the neck, realise I have to press much harder than it looks on tv, and start again. Oh. The blood. Is there supposed to be so much… I start to feel dizzy. I realise now that there is no stopping, and that the next bit means I have to stick my finger in there. Ughhh. I didn’t think this through. “Pen!” I command, trying to sound like a skilled surgeon. Then I poke it slowly in, pushing til I hear air hissing. Yeah, easy. I could do that.

3. Tame a wild horse. Horses love me. I have been around them since I was a child. I would vault over the high wooden gate, into the circular pen where a palomino stallion paws at the ground, sweat glistening on his beautiful golden coat. He snorts, tosses his mane and fixes his eyes on me. I move further into the pen, not walking towards him, looking past him to the rugged landscape beyond. He snorts again, throwing his head into the air, then rears, kicking his front hooves in my direction. He whinnies, a loud piercing cry, as he goes from rearing straight into a canter towards me, dodging me at the last second, kicking up sand as he skids to a halt. I continue to walk around the pen, away from him now, humming to myself. He carries on this attempt to intimidate me, to scare me off, bucking, rearing, snorting, charging, but I don’t flinch or move from my wandering. Fifteen minutes in, his back is darkened with sweat, and he is standing, watching me, his head turning as I walk past. I sit, now, running my hands through the sand, making shapes as I drag my fingertips in circles. He lowers his head and I hear his breathing change. His nostrils flare to take in my scent. They really can smell fear, but I’m not afraid of him, even as his shadow casts across me. He walks closer, snorts and touches his muzzle to my head. When I stand up, he doesn’t shy away, and I reach up to stroke his neck. Yada yada… I vault onto his back and we ride off into the sunset. The end.

4. Climb any mountain (not every mountain, this isn’t the Sound of Music). I mean, it’s pretty much just walking in the cold and the snow, right? Dress me up in some M&S thermals and some decent waterproof, windproof, coldproof gear, a balaclava (cashmere, preferably), and I’d be ready for K2. I don’t know why so many people die or get lost or don’t get to the top. You just keep going, no? Don’t turn round, keep on towards the big, pointy mountaintop bit. I’ve got that Apple Watch Ultra with its compass and elevation indicators. Nothing to it. I’m Scottish, so I basically am built for the cold. I’ve got one dodgy knee and a terrible ankle, and I’m maybe a couple of pounds off being ideal body weight. I might get a bit puffed out walking up my stairs, but I’m pretty much in top shape. Basically, an athlete, so the logical conclusion is that it would be a piece of piss. Might take the puppy with me. I’ll look into dog passports. Anyone else fancy it? I’ll bake some shortbread, and pack sandwiches in a decent tupperware. I’m really excited now. I’ll keep you posted, with photos, natch.

5. Land a plane. You’re on a flight to Lanzarote, the pilot’s died, they call for anyone to land the plane (the other pilot must have died too, or locked himself in the toilet). Me. Hand straight up. Jamming my finger into the overhead call button. “I can do it”. “Area you a pilot?” “No, just a mum”, I reply, already unbuckling my seatbelt, and standing up. “Do you have any experience?” “Also, no, but I’ve watched movies, and I once applied to British Airways to do their pilot training… well, I say ‘applied’, but I got the application form and it was so many pages…” I say as I barge past the person in the aisle seat. I stride towards the cockpit, nodding and smiling at the terrified passengers “it’s ok, I’ll get us down”. As I push my way into the cockpit, the flight attendants (they were air hostesses last time I was on a plane) are hysterical, crying and grabbing the tiny bottles of gin from the trolleys. I assure them that it will be fine and they’ll be on the beach in no time. I slam the door shut, effectively cocooning myself in the tiny space with two dead bodies (or one… I’ve not decided if the other bloke is dead or suffering from explosive diarrhoea. That chicken did look a bit pink). I put the headphones on, and start jamming my fingers on some buttons “mayday! Mayday! Alpha One Niner. I need a runway” I seem to remember the words from a movie, it’s all coming back to me now. I feel much more confident. This seat is comfy and that view. Wow, I should have filled out that application. I hear the air traffic control on the line, asking for coordinates, and height - so many numbers. “I’m not sure, but the compass thingy looks like it’s pointing sort of towards the south east, and that screen with the line across it, looks like we’re sort of tilting a bit. Which one of these controls levels us up?” I start pulling on the handle thingy and moving it side to side. The plane tilts and rolls and I can hear distant screaming. “I can see the airport ahead. Clear the runways, I’m coming in” now to figure out how to slow this thing down. I was once friends with a Blackhawk helicopter pilot in Miami and told him, aside from all those buttons and switches, I could fly that thing. It’s feeling a lot like that now. I just start bashing them to see what happens, ignoring the noise from the cabin behind me. The plane bumps about a bit, then I land it and everyone applauds and cheers.

Anyway, that’s off the top of my head, but there’s undoubtedly more things I could do without formal training and all that guff. I think people generally make a big deal out of stuff like this - none of it looks that hard.