Dad read out the menu: “Prawn cocktail, melon, Brussels pâté, gammon with pineapple rings, cheese vol-au-vents, and puddings.” We salivated (not in a pre-emetic way), for this was living, our first meal out in a posh restaurant. The dinner suited waiter with a Brummie-French accent recommended a Liebfraumilch to my father. We were allowed to taste its warm vinegary sweetness and felt it loosen our dental fillings. But times change. Now we have new fresh food, new ideas, and antipodean waiters in jeans. The medical menu has changed too. Tuberculosis …