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Rules is rules

Banned by half-baked bureaucracy - Britain - Times Online

HE WAS born before the discovery of antibiotics and survived the Depression and two world wars, yet staff at a day centre run by Age Concern decided that it was too much of a risk to let him eat a slice of home-made birthday cake.
The Madeira cake was baked for the 96-year-old man by Elaine Richards, a retired district nursing sister and a member of the Women's Institute.

But when Mrs Richards, who is in her 70s, tried to deliver the cake to her elderly friend, who does not wish to be identified, her contribution to the birthday fare was rejected because of food and hygiene rules.

She was told by staff at the day centre in Barnstaple, North Devon, that only shop-bought cakes were acceptable.

Andrea Scott, from Age Concern, apologised for upsetting Mrs Richards, but said that food regulation guidelines had to be followed to protect people in her care.

“ If I let one person do this, it will open the floodgates,” she said.

“We don’t know where these cakes come from, but if something went wrong then we could be sued. It’s not about ingredients, it’s about having things from a shop.”

She added: “I did apologise and I am very sorry for her but I had to abide by the rules.”


Elaine Richards’s cake ingredients: 9oz (255g) flour, 6oz unsalted butter, 6oz sugar, milk, three eggs, candied peel, lemon zest

The shop equivalent: wheat flour, egg white, sugar, vegetable margarine (hydrogenated vegetable oil, water, salt, emulsifier (E475) colours (E100, E106B flavourings), glucose-fructose syrup, humectant, vegetable glycerine, vegetable and hydrogenated vegetable oil, emulsifiers: E471, E475, egg, baking powder (raising agents E450, E500) colour (E170), wheat flour, salt, invert sugar syrup, skimmed milk powder; preservatives: E202, E200, flavourings, soya, flour, stabiliser: E415, dried egg white, colours E104, E124

As I face my decrepitude the thought of being incarcerated in one of these "caring" homes run by hatchet-face harridans enforcing stupid rules is too much to bear..

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.

(from Kipling's THE YOUNG BRITISH SOLDIER - see below)


When the 'arf-made recruity goes out to the East
'E acts like a babe an' 'e drinks like a beast,
An' 'e wonders because 'e is frequent deceased
Ere 'e's fit for to serve as a soldier.

Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
Serve, serve, serve as a soldier,
So-oldier OF the Queen!

Now all you recruities what's drafted to-day,
You shut up your rag-box an' 'ark to my lay,
An' I'll sing you a soldier as far as I may:
A soldier what's fit for a soldier.
Fit, fit, fit for a soldier . . .

First mind you steer clear o' the grog-sellers' huts,
For they sell you Fixed Bay'nets that rots out your guts--
Ay, drink that 'ud eat the live steel from your butts--
An' it's bad for the young British soldier.
Bad, bad, bad for the soldier . . .

When the cholera comes--as it will past a doubt--
Keep out of the wet and don't go on the shout,
For the sickness gets in as the liquor dies out,
An' it crumples the young British soldier.
Crum-, crum-, crumples the soldier . . .

But the worst o' your foes is the sun over'ead:
You must wear your 'elmet for all that is said:
If 'e finds you uncovered 'e'll knock you down dead,
An' you'll die like a fool of a soldier.
Fool, fool, fool of a soldier . . .

If you're cast for fatigue by a sergeant unkind,
Don't grouse like a woman nor crack on nor blind;
Be handy and civil, and then you will find
That it's beer for the young British soldier.
Beer, beer, beer for the soldier . . .

Now, if you must marry, take care she is old--
A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told,
For beauty won't help if your rations is cold,
Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.
'Nough, 'nough, 'nough for a soldier . . .

If the wife should go wrong with a comrade, be loath
To shoot when you catch 'em--you'll swing, on my oath!--
Make 'im take 'er and keep 'er:that's Hell for them both,
An' you're shut o' the curse of a soldier.
Curse, curse, curse of a soldier . . .

When first under fire an' you're wishful to duck,
Don't look nor take 'eed at the man that is struck,
Be thankful you're livin', and trust to your luck
And march to your front like a soldier.
Front, front, front like a soldier . . .

When 'arf of your bullets fly wide in the ditch,
Don't call your Martini a cross-eyed old bitch;
She's human as you are--you treat her as sich,
An' she'll fight for the young British soldier.
Fight, fight, fight for the soldier . . .

When shakin' their bustles like ladies so fine,
The guns o' the enemy wheel into line,
Shoot low at the limbers an' don't mind the shine,
For noise never startles the soldier.
Start-, start-, startles the soldier . . .

If your officer's dead and the sergeants look white,
Remember it's ruin to run from a fight:
So take open order, lie down, and sit tight,
And wait for supports like a soldier.
Wait, wait, wait like a soldier . . .

When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out to cut up what remains,
Jest roll to your rifle and blow out your brains
An' go to your Gawd like a soldier.

Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
Go, go, go like a soldier,
So-oldier of the Queen!


" As I face my decrepitude..." I'm with you on this. Don't know my blood pressure or cholesterol; never had a colon or prostate exam; Eat and drink what I like, and as much as I can conveniently hold. My doctor died a decade and a half ago, and has not been replaced.Much rather drop dead from a massive stroke than "live" on under a system that treats the old like children.

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