THERE’S a little choccy ducky sitting on a clutch of choccy eggs on my dressing table.

It is seriously cute, with its chirpily upturned yellow beak and Tweety Pie eyes smiling out from its Cellophane wrapping.

Trouble is, I can’t bring myself to bite its head off.

It’s not that I wasn’t very pleased to receive it. It’s just so dinky that I haven’t got the heart.

No such seasonal pangs of conscience with hot cross buns, I’m happy to say.

Purely in the interests of checking out my Mum’s belief that Marks & Spencer’s are the best ones, I’ve subjected them to a thorough taste testing regime this Easter. And I’m happy to report that she’s right.

Now it’s time for a healthier diet as we have another wedding (Son No.2) coming up in June and I don’t want to look like a lump in the photos alongside the bride’s mother, who must be 15 years younger than me.

Trouble is, I can’t give calorie-counting my full concentration just yet. Not with a couple of short breaks (extremely well-deserved, I might add) coming up soon. Everyone needs a few treats on holiday, don’t they?

And so it goes.

Before you know it, the big day will be upon us and it won’t be June that’s bustin’ out all over. It’ll be me.

And with show tunes in mind I want to talk about our Playhouse, and the great things going on there under the joint leadership of Sebastian Warrack and Gareth Machin.

In the last year or so I’ve attended numerous performances with the Wednesday Walkers gang (weekly dog walk and cake, or more accurately, cakes plural).

I’m not a well-qualified theatre critic, merely an opinionated one, but standout memories include Of Mice And Men, Singin’ in the Rain, Quartet, The Wipers Times, While We’re Here, and Around the World in Eighty Days.

And then last week’s adorable production of The Flying Lovers of Vitebsk, which I booked without any idea what was in store, and which left me feeling joyous and moved in equal measure.

Now if only the newly-formed Wiltshire Creative (what an earnestly kiss-of-death corporate title that is) would bring back the Arts Centre’s popular and profitable Sunday brunch jazz sessions, everyone would have something to applaud.

While I’m on about ridiculous names, can I just say how much I hate those rebranding exercises by consultants who think it’s cool to do without definite articles. Like Dogs Trust instead of The Dogs Trust. Or National Trust instead of The National Trust.

It’s not clever because it doesn’t work. Nobody ever talks about these organisations without using the word ‘the’, because it doesn’t sound right, so why waste money – precious charitable donations - trying to fix what ain’t broke?

anneriddle36@gmail.com