I was pleased to read the piece by our MP, Will Forster, in the 6 February issue of this paper.

Good to see the words in black and white: We have had enough! And he continued to write that requests to meet with senior representatives of Sir Robert McAlpine had not been fruitful. That a detailed plan to prevent any further cladding issues had not been forthcoming.

Perhaps we needed to be reminded that The Problems date back to when the Hilton hotel was under construction, for The Problem has been going on for so long it is becoming part of Woking's history .

Ann-Marie Barker, leader of the council, calls The Problem “Hugely frustrating and inconvenient” and warns The Problem could last into next month.

Has sackcloth been assessed as an alternative form of cladding ? There would seem to be a lot of it about.

Reader Nigel Searle has made an interesting point on cladding. We all know, to our cost, that every time the cladding on the Hilton appears to be loose the road is closed to through traffic, yet Henry (Cawsey) Plaza – as I shall continue to call it until the promised information on Cllr Cawsey is placed in said plaza – has remained open.

Nigel has looked upwards to its canopy and has noticed the same problem cladding directly overhead.

He writes: “Although to me it seems unlikely, it might be that the cladding on that side of the building isn’t as vulnerable to being loosened by high winds; it’s also possible that the plaza’s canopy has been designed to withstand being struck by a section of cladding falling from what could be up to at least 20 storeys up, again that too seems unlikely.

“By contrast, no such chance has been taken with the safety of pedestrians using Church Path, where on occasions when there have been problems with loose cladding there, a protective scaffolding tunnel has been put in place although, of course, that doesn’t have the benefit (?) of Henry Plaza’s canopy.”

Remember the folk tale of chicken Henny Penny, who was hit on the head by an acorn and started a panic that the sky was falling down?

Perhaps we shall all be looking upwards, chicken-like – to make sure the sky is not falling in and the world coming to an end.

I understand that Marie Kondo, the Japanese organising consultant, now has children who do not always agree with her methods. After all, how do you colour-code granny's hand-knitted dinosaur and grandpa's carefully crafted Noah's Ark?

No less a person than Dame Shirley Conran is quoted as commenting that life's too short to stuff a mushroom. But those piles of, metaphorical, mushrooms do tend to grow. Mushroom-like they grow slowly and almost unnoticeably until someone points out the pile is in danger of collapse.

One such pile is behind my bedroom door. It is fed, mainly, with clothing: “I'll never be that size again”; “The moths have got at it;” “The elastic's gone” and so on.

So when my eldest noticed the spread, and warned of the dangers of mycelium strands starting to creep across the carpet – like some sci-fi plot – that we decided something must be done.

Perhaps at this point I should mention my son-in-law's keen interest in all types of fungi – and of course he knew I was not going be ingested by strands of mycelium.

One pile for textiles – that includes garments with time-expired elastic – and a pile of “that's nice – someone would like that” for the charity shops.

What a difference, what a forgotten space. So, said daughter, why don't we go through the wardrobe?

You should know that I was practically bed-bound at the time and enjoying the idea of being told what I should get rid of – a sort of reverse personal shopper.

So many clothes I had never worn but had inherited from friends “because they fit me and I might wear them sometime”. “But you'll never be that size again” – and so the pile grew.

Then onto jumpers and T-shirts. No, I do not need three bright green jumpers.

I was allowed to keep a hand-knitted full-length coat which my mother made for me: she died in 1974. I've kept a bow tie and a black tie and a dark suit from my late husband – timeless and surprisingly useful.

Sometimes we need someone tell us what we should keep, and what we should not. My daughters are crafty: the cloches were bagged up and removed from the house in case I should have second thoughts about any of them.

They will be sorted through very thoroughly – and possibly end up behind another bedroom door?

It had been some four weeks since I had last managed to get to St Mary's Church for coffee and, I always hope, gossip.

I did not realise just how far behind times I was for the main news was that Christmas had come!

Many will remember Heater's Bakery in Horsell High Street but now Christmas has come: it is a family business which has been going since 1860 and is now in is fifth generation.

Many will have known that Christmas Bakery was going to take it over. I had assumed the new name would be up in time for Christmas – you know, the one back in December.

As Christmas had arrived just one week previous to my visit I felt that I was obliged to go into the shop.

The ladies recognised me from my irregular visits in search of butterscotch tarts, usually positioned in the window so I don't even have to go into the shop if they're not on display.

They did not have any this time but suggested I ring them before my next visit to the interior of Horsell village to make sure they have these delicacies in stock.

It was a lovely, but cold, day, and there are now tables and chairs in front of the shop. I have heard good things about their wares, particularly when a fresh-still-warm loaf which, for obvious reasons, did not make it back to the purchaser's home in its original condition.

Happy Christmas!

My front door is about 92 year's old, so very much in keeping with the 1930's house. Many houses down this road have been altered over the years and many residents decided on replacement doors (not in keeping with the age of the house but that's just my opinion).

I heard recently about thieves burning their way into a house by melting the plastic of the door around the lock. I am sure someone will correct me and tell me the precise composition of some modern doors, but the fact is they can be melted.

I am surprised there is no ruling about front doors. Perhaps there is but either no one knows or no one cares.

Television goodies and baddies gain access to houses with a plastic (OK, not actual plastic) card lightly slid up and releasing the latch. You couldn't do that on one of these old doors because of the way they were crafted.

As one who has delivered magazines and such like to local houses, why is it permitted to have low-down letterboxes? You have to crouch to get at them, then the satchel of post on your back comes round and thwacks you.

Of course, if the letterbox is on eye level you may be able to see the length of the hallway right out to their garden: not a good idea. Nor is the glass door which shows the pile of mail which has accumulated because you are away.

I suggest that you go and post something through your letterbox, preferably something flimsy, which will tear on your various layers of draft-proofing.

Nigel Searle has taken a different view of the Allnutt sign, which I have previously mentioned. He has put himself in the position of the HG Wells' statue in Wells Plaza.

He writes: “Looking at this scene through the statue’s eyes I can’t help being reminded of the classic 1960s film version of Wells’s The Time Machine where Rod Taylor, playing the time traveller who, sitting in his machine, witnesses the changes in his surroundings – not forgetting those of the fashions worn by the mannequin in the shop window – speeding rapidly through thousands of years in just a matter of seconds.

“The statue obviously won’t see the changes accelerated in such a way, but it is certainly going to witness some radical changes in its vista over the next few years albeit at a more normal pace.”

What a fascinating thought – perhaps we should Watch This Space, particularly with a high-speed camera!