CAN you recall a gentler time when we didn't lock our doors every time we so much as moved out of the house?

When politeness was the rule and you actually knew your neighbours well as opposed to spotting them in Asda where they look vaguely familiar?

Anyone above a certain age will remember times like these. And I had a surprising reminder of this almost-forgotten life during a trip to New Zealand to see my daughter and twin grandchildren.

Nowhere is perfect, but this country is the way we were in the Fifties and early Sixties, before we Brits speeded up our lifestyles. Go anywhere there and expect to be greeted by "How are you today?" To which the correct response is along the lines of "Good, thanks, and you?" One nice gesture deserves another.

Shop assistants are genuinely helpful. In one Auckland store, a young assistant followed us into the changing rooms with "a couple of ideas you might like to try for that wedding" after picking up on a very quick conversational reference to the forthcoming event. Patience and pleasantness were the norm wherever we went.

Streets are clean with rubbish in bins as just a small part of New Zealand's excellent recycling policy.

Public transport is equally impressive, and here officials are unendingly informative and concerned for visitors. Graffiti is rare and public buildings generally pristine and well-cared for, and families are welcome everywhere.

They get their fair share of rain but somehow it doesn't seem to dampen the spirits. No, what there appears to be - and what we have lost - is respect. For our communities, for our officials, for ourselves.

This country has come a long way, but in many ways it has retreated just as far, and our cousins so far away could teach us a thing or two about living. Unfortunately, we probably can't be bothered to learn.