Even when she was eighty, my grandmother wasable to paper the ceiling, standing on a dining table to do so. She dug potatoes from the garden and prepared vegetables for foureach day.

Her pastry was a mixture of lard and butter and she madeblackcurrant, gooseberry and rhubarb tarts, all fruit she had grown and picked herself.Rice puddings were baked, using a mix offull cream and condensed milk, with rice, syrup and raisins. Fruit cakes had a wine glass of brandy added to them. She took pride in her skills and they were not just practical.I called one evening and she was studying aFrench dictionary. A visitor was calling, from Paris, and shewas revising.

She was not unusual by any means. A lady of eighty three, a one time neighbour of mine, climbed onto her cottage roof and hammered a loose tile back into place, when awindy day had dislodged it.

I say all this becausein Cardiff Royal Infirmary, patients who needed a nurse were told to shake a tambourine. One of the visitors tried the system and he shook for sixteen minutes before someone appeared. ('If the tambourine fails, try the maracas instead', they were told). Sounds like something out of 'Carry on Nurse'. It would be laughable if it wasn't so sad. It's like giving the nursery class a percussion lesson,treating older people likeinfants, teaching Mamgu to suck eggs. It's the sheer effrontery of it.

My grandmother's generation had no labour saving gadgets, yet the chores, though sometimes arduous, gave them a purpose in life.

I have another gripe about some hospitals: themenus.My contention is this: whenpeople are convalescing, theydo not want to be presented with 'healthy' food if they don't like it. I'm talking about a hospital that served brown rice, brown bread, margarine, apples and salad. Food should be appetising to the individual if it is to be enjoyed. This applies to all ages but especially to the elderly, who often won't complain.

No, I haven't got a degree in nursing and Idon't need it to state what should be blindingly obvious.