Frozen Lasagna

Do you eat processed foods? Only very occasionally do I and then it is ingredients. I prepare my own food from scratch preffering the taste and knowing what went into it. Findus are in trouble since their beef lasagnas turned out to have up to 100% horse meat in them. This item is our headline news at the moment, rather than Stafford hospital. Findus beef lasagna has also prompted high level government meetings. Our dangerous hospitals should be the subject being urgently discussed. The thing is the Brit's get very upset about eating horses, which is ironic since when hungry they habitually say "I could eat a horse". Is anyone surprised though that we don't know what goes into processed food?

On a lighter note there is no suggestion so far that the horse lasagna is bad for your health. However eating them to excess may result in you getting the trots!

Was that last line original? Nay!!

The CEO of the company was called in to account for this food standards failing. On approaching the office door he became skittish and wouldn't go in. They managed to start the meeting eventually after blind folding him and turning him around three times before leading him into the office with a sugar lump.



 

Corporate Manslaughter?

1200 dead allegedly. Could it be worse? It is, because Mid Staff's hospital may be the hospital damned in a public enquiry, but don't for one minute think it is the only British hospital where old people are neglected and mistreated. 5 others with abnormally high death rates are to be investigated. Relatives want heads to roll. So far no one is held accountable.

Our NHS, a much loved institution? and national treasure, is sick. Or at least the hospitals are. Any of us who have had the misfortune to take our elderly loved ones into one of our hospitals are likely to have seen it. Patients so thirsty they drink from dirty flower vases. Old men sleeping through the meal put at their bedside because no one woke them. The catering contractor takes the food away untouched and the old people slowly starve. An old lady crying because she went to the toilet in her bed, because the health care assistants were on their break and playing with their smart phones. Sloppy nursing, missing details. No one has lost their job so far.

If some of the stuff in the paragraph above sounds personal it is. Poor mum! This blog is a publication so where I lack hard evidence I must be careful. Sorry sis, I have to write this or I would truly be a useless blogger. Mum spent time in two British NHS hospitals (unnamed) at the end of her life. Accident and Emergency at the first found that as well as injuries from her fall she had suffered a minor heart attack. They moved her to a cardiac ward and efficiently treated that. They didn't investigate her swollen abdomen or confusion despite being told by relatives that this was all new. They missed the tumour the size of a melon in her abdomen. They discharged her to have another fall. In the second hospital on a dementia ward she was verbally and physically abused. Since I do not have evidence to sue, I will not name this hospital, ward, or individual either. Am I angry? You bet your life I am ! Am I the only one? Not by thousands apparently. Two close friends have similar recent experiences. Respecting their privacy, no names.

The legal actions will follow now, in an avalanch I imagine. It may be the only way the situation will change. Sorry won't cut it. I will never forget our poor little mum terrified, particularly of us speaking up, and her being left alone with her tormentor. We treat our dogs better! 

If this post has a hard edge, good. I'll watch the campaign carefully. Right now as a single, middle aged man, I wouldn't want taking to a British hospital alone. I would want someone riding shot gun while I slept also! If I am taking ill, I pray it is during Summer, when I am usually in Sweden!

This blog is about a journey through life, and what happens along the way. This is like walking up to a train wreck, but with more people dead.

Breezy Rider

She is middle aged like me, but looks stunning for her age. Being out with her, she makes me feel special. I really miss her company, so stop by to say hello. I touch her backside and she doesn't mind at all. She never minds. Breathing in the cold winter air, it's 3 above and the roads are clear of ice. She starts sluggishly, tired I imagine from weeks of slumber.When I pushed her starter button I wasn't sure she had the energy to respond, but she fires  up and after a few seconds the beat of her engine smooths out. We are going for a winter ride so I head back inside to don my biking gear.

Any day I ride Elsa is a better day. It's icy cold and there is mud on the road in places down the back lanes. I am fully aware that if I stall her early on, we will be stuck. Her battery is virtually exhausted. I'm gentle through the twisties. This is not a day for exuberance. We are both a little rusty. The Rose Inn comes into view in the sunshine. I still have building work to get on with, but for an hour the afternoon is ours.

Apparently I am still in love with the old girl.

The Banks

I got the en suite tiled out ready for Mick's return by the skin of my teeth. I'm slow. I make mistakes, but in the end my work passes muster. Mick gave it the thumbs up on Saturday. I am physically exhausted from my efforts and am taking a day to catch up with everything else. Back at it tomorrow. We got the shower, toilet and wash basin in this weekend so I can get on with finishing the grouting, and the decorating. I also need to start the tiling in the bathroom, which we gutted yesterday. My thanks to Allan and Sue for letting me shower at their house while the sealants set.

I want to have a look at my complicated situation from another perspective completely. The starting point, which easily gets lost in the excitement. There are many angles including my horrible previous three years and a need to move on. Our banks are a factor though for sure. Here is what happened from that point of view:

I am early retired and a net saver. My retirement plan was reliant upon the interest on my savings. Lousy British interest rates mean that what my British bank pays for borrowing my money, is derisory. I don't have sufficient income, therefore I am drawing down on those savings. This situation is common for older British savers I believe. My solution was to take my money off the bank and invest in property that I can then generate an income from through rent. Needs must. The personal twist for me is that with a social network in Sweden, and wonderful summers spent riding my motorbike with friends, I had another more interesting route I could take. So I bought the drop dead gorgeous little house in the forest, and moved my money to Sweden where interest rates are higher. It works for me (I hope).

A hero of mine, Charles Darwin, once said that it is not the strong that prosper. It is the flexible. I certainly try to live by that law.