I went out for a curry last week to our favourite little place. It’s nice when you find somewhere nearby and can go there when you can’t be bothered cooking and just need a treat. I ordered a peshwari curry because I’ve never had one before and fancied a change. The thought of coconut and sultanas seemed to hit the spot. I was halfway into what was a proper tasty bit of snap when I realised that there wasn’t a hint of coconut in it, or a single sultana.

There were a hell of a lot of onions though and it wasn’t the creamy dish I’d imagined. So at the end I did say to the waiter – ‘I’m not complaining, because this was delicious, but I think you’ve given me the wrong dish.’ He said he’d have a word with the chef. He came back soon after and said ‘Yes, it’s a peshwari curry, but the chef said that it isn’t as peshwari as it should have been.’ That made me laugh. Fabulous get out. And yes, of course, we’ll be back.

The NHS is struggling as we know, and I’ve had to go back up to the hospital again with mum. A & E was as busy as I’ve ever known it on Monday. My goodness, there were some sights to be seen. And there were only seats available in the freezing reception area. But the doctor in there was as thorough as could be, gentle and patient.

I have no idea how the medics manage it with just a never ending supply of damaged people walking in through the doors. Then Tuesday was spent up at the Frailty clinic, which I didn’t even know existed. Mum was seen by consultants and therapists, her tablets were swapped around (the only downside was waiting over two hours for those to arrive to the ward). What a lovely team of people they were there.

On Wednesday someone arrived early doors to check around that mum had enough equipment in her house to help her cope. Thursday morning, what we needed was brought up and fitted and every day someone from the ‘Virtual Ward’ has rung to liaise, to talk things over with and a community matron arrived to see mum in person. I don’t think my mother could have had better and more efficient treatment even if she’d gone private. What a fabulous service the NHS is when it runs properly – we must never NEVER lose it.

I was incredibly sad to hear of the death of Ted Johnson last week. The article in last week’s Chron was indeed true that his former car showroom up Doncaster Road is almost a landmark. I couldn’t tell you how many name changes it’s had over the years, I couldn’t tell you what it is now because myself and many others have always just called it ‘Ted Johnson’s’.

When I finally got to meet Ted, what an old-school gent he was, dapper as they come, lovely, exuding warmth, every bit the icon I’d imagined he would be – I was totally charmed. I hope, in time after the initial grief has lost its hard edge, it will be a comfort to his family to know how much affection Barnsley had for Ted and his famous showroom. I think it will always be known as ‘Ted Johnson’s place.