coccyx

Vanilla is a restaurant for people who aren't interested in food. It's for people who are interested in their own reflections; for those who think that shiny surfaces and witty takes on monochrome flock wallpaper motifs are very now. It's for women who totter and men who only regard it as a good night out if they can get a prostate massage off the vibrations from the sound system. Certainly I hated the bar on first sight. I reckoned it saved time. The room was a white out: white walls, white floors, white tables, white noise. If you dropped something white - an albino tiger, say - you'd never find it again.


I was somewhere north of London's Oxford Street, and for no obvious reason - I hadn't tortured any kittens recently, mugged any old ladies or voted Lib Dem - I had been sentenced to an evening in my very own version of hell. Still, it could have been worse. I could have been one of the cooks. They have to prepare meals for people who surely couldn't give a toss. Because if the punters did care, they would be somewhere else. They wouldn't be here wondering which member of the kitchen staff thought putting a sickly Mr Whippy-style sweet vanilla foam on top of a potato crisp was a good idea, when it was the least amusing thing to come near my mouth since my dentist attacked me last autumn with the hurty Novocaine syringe and the whirring drill. It wasn't an amuse bouche. It was a cry for help.
Not that all the food here is irredeemably bad. Only half of it is. The rest is like the name of the place: so very forgettable, so very vanilla. The menu reads like somebody has wandered London's restaurants randomly choosing dishes because they sound grown-up: lobster bisque with poached prawns; twice-baked Comte cheese souffle; black-leg chicken and wild mushroom fricassee with sauteed asparagus. What do these dishes have in common? Nothing, save that you'll find them on the menu at Vanilla.

Some were just silly. A courgette flower risotto was a loose, over-seasoned bowlful, mined with lumps of al-dente courgette with one sad flower lying on top, as if begging to be interred in the mush below. Another starter of seared scallops on cauliflower puree was an inexpert rendition of a dish that can be found much better elsewhere.

For my main course I ordered the sea bass with an Amaretto and vanilla sauce, because it sounded like something devised under the auspices of a care in the community order. On the upside you couldn't taste the Amaretto. On the down side you could taste the vanilla. Weirdly, out of this gastro-cacophony emerged one dish bearing some rather fine slices of roast lamb which were pink, well seasoned and bore a nice ribbon of crisp fat. They came with a pillow of underwhelming mash that was so large I could have buried my head in it and pretended I was somewhere else. I was tempted. I finished with a caramelised pineapple ravioli which is less a dish and more a game of word association played by someone with dyslexia. The other dessert was something creamy out of a soda siphon stuffed into a brandy snap tube.

For these three courses they charged ￡30, which is very London and very now, all of it served by a dour Eastern European waitress, which is also very London and very now. As we were leaving, the bar had filled up with women each flashing their tattooed coccyx, and bronzed men leering at them. Soon the bar will become a private club. I was even offered free membership. Weirdly, I declined.
Dear Advice Goddess: I'm in love with a man I've been seeing long distance for six months. He's funny, interesting, and sexy, and I really admire the way he is with people and my horses. He quit his job to move to be with me, but then, without explanation, began interviewing elsewhere. I also learned he hadn't told his three adult daughters that he and their mother have been divorced for a year! He finally told them on the day he couldn't avoid my meeting one of the daughters.

I last saw him three months ago, and he's been breaking plans to meet ever since and calling and e-mailing less and less. Last week, he e-mailed that I was "just great," but he couldn't figure out how to make it work. Well, I'd like a relationship with this man. I know underneath he's caring, loving, and considerate. A great companion. - Missing Him

Dear Missing: Yes, he seems like the perfect companion - for any girl who can make do with a big carrot in a man's pocket and a pat or two on the withers.

But, wait … it appears he also has a way with people! A way of what? I'm guessing he smiles at the waitress, asks about her bursitis, and leaves 25 percent.

But what about his people? Maybe a guy "forgets" to tell his kids that he got hair plugs or that he's renting their rooms to strangers.

What kind of father waits an entire year - until his daughter's about to catch him with his girlfriend - to break the news that he and Mom have, uh, decided to date other people?

This was a sign, one of many, that the follow-up to sweeping you off your feet would probably be dropping you on your coccyx. He was moving to be with you, but then he wasn't, and never mind why.

You're supposedly in a six-month relationship, but you haven't seen the guy in half as many months, and he's calling and e-mailing "less and less." Wow, right out of Shakespeare, except in Romeo and Juliet, the big question was "Wherefore art thou?" not "Where the hell have you been these past three months?"

Naturally, you prefer to focus on what a "great companion" he is … underneath. (Are you looking for a relationship or a career in mining?)

My guess: you're not just looking for a relationship but are so desperate for one that you're willing to overlook almost anything: Oh, he eats babies? Well … only after giving them "fair chase!"

Being long distance kept inconvenient truths safely out of the way, leaving you to fill in the blanks with wishful thinking and misty memories of just how darn wonderful he was with Mr. Ed.

For future reference, when your boyfriend says he can't figure out how to make it work, he isn't telling you he's stumped, he's telling you to move on.

Although positive thinking can be a terrific tool (per my friend Rob Long, "Life hands you cancer, make cancerade!"), you need to bring a little pessimism into your life, and explore why dating a particular guy might be ill-advised, impractical or downright dim.

If you must think positive, choose to say "I'm OK with or without a man" before you start swooning, "Why, he's a regular Lone Ranger! Hi-yo, Silver, and away!" - and you should catch on quicker when a man's particularly good at the "away!"

Dear Advice Goddess: My girlfriend of nine months was traveling when my electricity went out for the day. I asked to hang at her place until it was fixed. She refused, later explaining she didn't want to give me the alarm code, even though we're together five days a week with "I love you's" galore! Now, she's turning this around, professing hurt feelings that I never gave her my house key. I would have, but she doesn't drive and is never at my place without me. - One Foot Out the Door

Dear One Foot: How could you not know her feelings were hurt? Probably because you aren't one of her girlfriends, who surely logged hours listening to how your not giving her your key means you have symbolically locked her out of your heart, blah, blah, blah.

Granted, it is possible she was hiding something - I mean, beyond the fact she's passive-aggressive, vindictive and petty. Internet dating? CIA outpost? Forgetful about flushing?

It seems your idea of what "I love you" really means ("Your best interest is my best interest!") is a little different from hers ("Rot in the dark, Loverboy!").

As for your being only One Foot Out the Door, you had better hope that the next time the chips are down - say, one's lodged in your throat - you aren't left to flail on the floor while she takes mental inventory WHETHER YOU ride a scooter or a sportsbike, everyone should wear a back protector. Most of us know how vital a decent helmet is for protecting our head, but how many of us have given any real thought about protecting our spine?

Back injuries are a common and often serious consequence of many motorcycle accidents but the wearing a decent back protector can massively reduce the chances of a damaged spine if you're unlucky enough to be involved in an accident.

Many modern leather or textile suits already house and in-built protector but we strongly recommend spending a little extra cash to give yourself maximum protection with a dedicated back protector. They're usually much stronger and absorb an impact far better than the flimsy stuff you find stuffed down the back of most jackets.

So what should we be looking for when we buy a dedicated back protector? Here are a few simple tips to bear in mind when buying:

Try on the protector with the kit you'll be wearing and make sure it doesn't dig into your neck. If it does try a smaller one.

Check the shoulder straps are adjustable for maximum comfort.

It may cost a little more but articulated protectors (made from moving separate plates) often give you the best flexibility.

Most have an adjustable velcro waistband. Make sure it's a suitable size for you.

Make sure the protector covers your coccyx (the tailbone at the bottom of your spine).

If in doubt ask the shop assistant to help you get the right fit. MAKKAH, 22 September 2007 ― Due to an alleged lack of supervision by the Ministry of Health, medical mistakes in the Kingdom's hospitals continue to claim the lives of people. Arab News met Muhammad, a 42-year-old Saudi citizen whose quest for proper medical care took him across the Middle East and beyond to the UK.

Muhammad is married and has two children. For a long time he suffered severe back pain that prevented him from walking and so went to a well-known hospital in Jeddah to consult a Saudi bone specialist.

"The doctor said he wanted an x-ray and carried out some clinical examinations. He told me that I was suffering from inflammation at the end of my back in the coccyx (the tailbone or the final segment of the human vertebral column)," said Muhammad, who was advised to take tranquilizers to make him feel better.

"The tranquilizers reduced the pain for a while but it soon came back," he said, adding that he went to another private hospital and consulted an Egyptian physician, who concurred with the previous doctor's diagnosis after carrying out x-rays himself.

Unsatisfied with the treatment he received, Muhammad went to a hospital in Beirut where a bone doctor told him that he needed to exercise his coccyx bone. On returning to Jeddah, a fourth doctor told him that the pain he was suffering was the result of cramp in his muscles due to the exercise that he was doing.

Muhammad then consulted a Saudi neurosurgeon, who asked him to undergo a scan. The doctor also advised him to undergo physiotherapy.

Not seeing a difference, Muhammad went to an Egyptian physician, who told him not to think a lot because that was affecting his nerves and causing him pain. He also advised him to take some depression tablets.

Muhammad then went to another Saudi physician at Al-Badria Medical Towers. The physician advised him to visit a neurologist because he could not work out what was wrong.

The 42-year-old continued visiting doctor after doctor. He even went to a bone consultant in Egypt, who told him that he was suffering from inflammation in the sciatic nerve and that this was what was hurting him. He advised him to take some strong tranquilizers.

Muhammad said, "I followed lots of doctors' prescriptions, but the pain continued to increase. The financial losses were increasing too."

Finally Muhammad decided to go to Britain to consult a specialist physician identified only as Dr. James, who after examining him told him that there was a tumor in his back that needed to be removed.

"He told me that he was going to carry out surgery. He told me that he wouldn't go ahead if I were unsure about it. He said his main concern was to make sure I was satisfied with the treatment," said Muhammad, adding that he underwent the surgery.

"After the operation the doctor ordered that I undergo another brain and neck scan to make sure everything was OK. He gave me some medication and asked me to visit him again after eight months," Muhammad said.

"Dr. James said that if he cannot properly diagnose a case then he takes help from his colleagues. He told me that sharing experience with other doctors benefits him and his patients. Moreover, in Britain doctors are punished severely for medical mistakes," he said.

Muhammad urged physicians in Saudi Arabia to fear God and respect their medical oaths.

"You are dealing with the flesh and blood of human beings. I spent SR20,000 on treatment in Britain. I wish I had spent this money in Saudi Arabia. This would have made me proud," he said.