I've just returned to work after a week off with a chest and ear infection.

Being ill is a strange affair because when you are stuck at home you are living a kind of half life. each day I struggled as far as the sofa and set there like a zombie for five or six hours, occasionally returning from unconsciousness.

I don't know if this was due to the illness and antibiotics or the cumulative effect of daytime television, which appears to have turned my brain into scrambled egg.

A seemingly endless diet of sluts and nuts talk shows and programmes about antiques and makeovers is enough to leave anyone dribbling into their Cup-a-Soup. No wonder unemployed people get so depressed. The worst thing is I have now taking to wondering whatever happened to Wayne and Chakira' from Bolton and their DNA test on the Jeremy Kyle Show.

It is a good job that a) I don't live in a village and b) I didn't need an ambulance now that the Great Western Ambulance Trust appears to have decided that turned up to 999 calls out in the sticks is an optional extra.

I feel sorry for the ambulance crews who have to put up with the abuse and stress caused by this despicable decision.

The arrogance of the trust is staggering. Our reporter asked it for some information relating to the response times last Friday. This was not complicated information and a modern, efficient, organisation would have had it to hand.

The information was still not forthcoming by the time we went to press today. Shabby response times appear to be a theme over there.