Good manners - are they disappearing too quickly?

Leonie arrived back from her doctor's appointment for morning coffee with the team here. She was furious. Not because she was running late and not because she couldn't find a parking spot.

She sat down, ordered her favourite latté (the one that "bounces") and then told us about her appointment. Acknowledging the fact that doctors lists seem endless, and appointments have to be made at six weeks in advance, this in no way excused the treatment and attitude of the doctor when Leonie at last was called into his rooms, a matter of an hour and a half after when her appointment was scheduled.

Leonie is organised, so much so that everywhere she goes she writes herself lists and ensures that everything on that list is attended to before attending to other matters, like visiting the Body Shop and buying all sorts of lovely beauty treatments as a special treat (which she does quite often!), or doing some window-shopping or taking sandwiches down to the local park to watch the ducks on the lake.

So we were most surprised when she regaled what had happened this morning.

Let her explain: The Dr was in a bad mood and this was quite obvious from his first comments, "well what do you want today?" I had my short list and told him I needed a repeat prescription, as well as wanting to know the results of some blood tests he had arranged for me a fortnight ago. Yet it was the request for a referral document to a specialist that really got him going and following a tirade which lasted about 8 minutes, I was so stunned that I began to shake and was near to tears. I quickly quelled that feeling. His reason for the tirade? Completing the documents took him too long and he felt I was asking too much! When I explained that the specialist had asked for this paperwork, he mumbled and grumbled and slapped his keyboard in time with his deep and exasperated sighs.

I couldn't believe it when he asked me why I visited the specialist in the first place (it was at his own direction); and demanded to know why I was visiting him to do my paperwork and to get my BP reading as well as write out a new prescription for a tablet he put me on a matter of six months ago. He sat back in his chair and loudly said "I'm not your Doctor so why am I in the picture?"

It took me only 5 minutes to prove that he had accepted me as a patient more than 8 months ago, when another Dr at the same practice had left, and that I had been to see him every six weeks during that time (at his request) He went through the records and had to admit I was right.

I then said to him, "Dr, I know you're busy and by the same reasoning I know that I need a referral. You've made me feel a nuisance and I would hate to think that after all this time that it is not my size that is affecting your attitude towards me today. It's not something that bothers me usually, but this morning you've shown annoyance with me beyond just your being busy."

The doctor then stood up, opened the door and almost pushed me out into the corridor. I smiled sweetly and said, as I walked towards the exit, "I do hope you have a good day and are much nicer to your next patient".

This sort of story is repeated day in and day out, for countless thousands of women. Leonie doesn't jump to conclusions or make assumptions about people and their attitudes, but as she spoke this morning, each of us wondered whether size had come into the equation. Or was that simply imagination?

Why is everyone so intent on telling us ...........

If you're a "mad" collector of books, like me, then in amongst all your bookcase shelves, you're bound to have some cookery books. There'll be favourites that bear the imprint of spills and dogeared corners, and there'll be those that look as though they've just come home from your bookstore.

In my case those that still look new, even though some of them are more than 40 years old, are much more than a guide to creating and making special meals, whipping up a favourite cake or even just throwing some ingredients together to form a "comfort food" need. They have become favourite picture books that I take down from the bookshelves when I feel a little low in spirits, and I can quite happily become engrossed for hours on end, merely looking at the photos, appreciating the recipes themselves, and realising that the photos in themselves provide me with pleasure. I may wish that I will use the recipe to recreate what appears in the photo, and I may not. I find that indulging in day-dreaming is sometimes nice too.

Most of my "old" cookbooks don't have pictures though, and this is where imagination takes over, as well as memories of the fun and joy of cooking and baking for my family. A number of my books were published during and after the second world war, and while the ingredients were in many cases hard to find, the main staples formed the basis of much cooking. Surprisingly, one was able to easily change a basic recipe with a little forethought, and the usage and combination of many spices that gave flavours and textures to the food cooked and prepared that today seem boring and uninteresting. But this is where food retains its individuality and its appeal. I even remember I had a recipe book that gave 365 recipes for minced steak (when minced steak was almost the cheapest meat to buy), and they were all different. I know, for when things were tight during a recession back in the early 1960s, I made every one of those 365 recipes, and they were definitely not boring.

I've noticed lately that restaurants quite often include some of the "old-fashioned" meals. Take for instance - steak and kidney pie; lamb shanks; roast and yorkshire pudding. Then there's bread and butter custard; junket; golden syrup pudding served with custard. I even saw on the menu last week at a local "pub", brains. I've got to admit I've never eaten them, but it certainly looked as though a lot of people were eager to try.

But why is everyone so intent on telling us that we shouldn't eat this and shouldn't eat that? Food is something personal, and while I can accept the fact that "healthy" food is what we should be aiming for, this doesn't take away the fact that there are times when we need "comfort food". Just watch some of the Nigella Lawson tapes or DVD's and you'll see what I mean. Go back a bit further and watch the 2 Fat Ladies - well, yes, I have to agree that some of the meals prepared in duck fat and such wouldn't meet my own individual taste,but there were lots of recipes that I felt (and I'm sure other viewers felt as well) I'd like to taste. Go back further still to our very own Margaret Fulton who made, and continues to make, a big impression on our food and how we prepare and serve it.

But we don't need to go back to find recipes that fulfill all our expectations and needs. My favourite at the moment is David Herbert - he even quotes many of his recipes as being handed down from his mother, and aunts. I know there are countless cooks and chefs who write books that when published are big and heavy (and are priced accordingly), but sometimes I think it's the simple little newspaper cutting from the 1930s or 1940s that give me such pleasure in producing in my own kitchen.

And speaking of cookery books, I have two absolutely favourites. Both are scrapbooks - one which my mother started in the early 1930s, and my own which I began in the 1950s (and I have to admit I still add to it whenever I find a tempting recipe).

The Tongue Patch or should that be tongue in cheek?

Is the world going mad, or what?

I read today that "the award for the most ridiculous "weight loss treatment" goes to the Chugay Tongue Patch, a tiny patch of mesh surgically attached to the tongue to make eating painful, which is taking Southern California by storm." (From the Weekend Australian 10/11 Oct 2009).

Perhaps the reporter was actually talking with tongue in cheek?