SADLY I do have to back up the experiences of Ann Bywater who wrote in a letter last week complaining about the arrangements for booking a phlebotomy appointment in the diagnostic centre in town.

I had the same experience if I’m honest. I went to book it online and there were no appointments for weeks so I didn’t quite trust that and rang instead.

I was on the line for a loooong time, then it cut out. I tried again, just like Ms Bywater, and the same thing happened. And again.

By this time I was doggedly determined to crack the system and rang and rang until I got through.

And I was able to book an appointment earlier than the app told me I could – so it was worth persisting, but it wasn’t ideal.

And yes, t’is true, that people trying to cancel an appointment they can’t make are just going to think ‘sod it’ and just not turn up if it’s this much trouble to give back-word.

It is a bone of contention the phones in the NHS. I have a young friend who has been trying to get through to the paediatric unit by phone to discuss her child’s treatment and she can’t because no-one picks up.

And there is no-one who has tried to ring a ward to get information about a relative who has managed to get through without pulling their hair out first.

Yes, we know they’re busy, but how else can you get information if you live away and are unable to bob up there physically?

I am hoping any overhaul of the NHS includes these sorts of problems which are at the least VERY annoying and certainly in the case of cancelled appointments, need to be addressed.

Though as a positive, I will say once you get up to the diagnostic centre, you are dealt with very efficiently by incredibly nice people.

The Barnsley behemoth of talent that is Mr Jack Land-Noble and I performed at the wonderful Lamproom last week, our usual Mills and Goon event with songs and comedy from Jack, poetry from me.

I was delighted that my opening number, a jaunty little piece about Keir Starmer went down very well.

I was surprised though that people did not realise the wig I wore to perform in was supposed to transform me into Dr John Cooper-Clarke and not Tina Turner.

It’s a piece of which I am particularly proud and was rather a joy to write. But then what a gift of a name ‘Starmer’ is because it rhymes with so many convenient things: Farmer, Harmer … Jeffrey Dahmer.

Poetry is like a puzzle, you can always find the missing piece when you search for it. Better than sudoku any day of the week. What a wonderful night it was, playing to a packed house. We hope we sent you away with a song in your heart and a laugh in your lungs.

TikTok is educating me in ways I never thought possible. It’s taken me this long in life to realise that the longest part of a duvet goes across not down when you’re putting a quilt cover on.

This has rescued my relationship as we have both been blaming each other for hogging the warm quilt and leaving only flappy empty bits which are no good in this cold spell.

It reminds me of a pal who was in his late 30s before it dawned on him that the name ‘K-9’ the robot dog in Dr Who stood for ‘canine’.