So British beef is once more acceptable to those living in Europe after a ten year ban. Well, how nice for them; how nice that they can afford to eat British beef.
Does that sound bitter? Well, I am bitter. I can't afford to eat British beef, or British lamb for that matter, not on my paltry State Retirement Pension.

I'm not whinging! I'm stating a fact. I've worked all my life and have paid taxes all my life. And now I'm expected to live on a pittance. Seniors in future will have to work well beyond the normal retirement age. Of course, no one cares if they are too worn out to do so.

The State does not do enough, not half enough for the elderly. I spent fifteen years caring for relatives at home, without recompense and to the detriment of my own health. It was only in the last two years of that time that I managed to gain help, and that had to be fought for every inch of the way. Carers like me have saved the government millions over the years. I did not want monetary help, no, I wanted muscle-power, helping hands who would do the lifting and heaving for me, to save my back. At 71 years old myself the physical effort of caring was almost beyond me. The help I got from the Local Council? 45 minutes in the morning and roughly ten minutes in the evening. Don't get me wrong. I was more than thankful for that help. But the rest of the time, 23 hours a day 7 days a week, it was me on my own; caring all day and then expected to care at night too.
It was only with the help of a local charity who specialise in helping carers themselves by finding unpaid volunteers who take the strain off carers in the home, that I managed to get a night-sitter for one or two nights a week, so that I could get some sleep myself. This volunteer sitter was worth his weight in gold, and I shall always be grateful for the respite provided for me. But in the end though it all became too much for my ageing body to stand. And so, sadly, Hubby and I had to live apart. Now he has the nursing care he needs, a team of people, 24 hours a day.

Alone now, I have to manage on my State Retirement Pension. Folks! It's not good enough!
I'm stepping down from my soap box now.

Reading an article today by Becky Barrow, Business Correspondent for the Daily Mail on the plight of millions of OAPs in this country of ours, I felt deep, deep despair and anger too.
Prices are on the rise, especially of basic needs, like fuel and food, and will continue to rise. Nobody gives a damn that elderly citizens are on the breadline and have been for decades.
The State Pension is no more than a pittance. Because I only paid national insurance stamps for twenty-five years instead of the required thirty years, my pension was reduced to 64%. My recent gas bill was £288 and electric bill £111, and that was just for the last quarter. I have had to go to the expense of buying color gas fires and halogen heaters, which are supposed to be cheaper to run.
Meat? Don't make me laugh! I can't remember when I last afforded a piece of beef or lamb to roast. My meat comes out of a tin. I manage a bit of chicken now and then, if I can find one on special offer.
The elderly are living longer due to medical advances. But we want to live not merely exist on the edge of society, as I have written about previously.
When will this government (or any government for that matter), give OAPs a decent life. We don't want the earth. All we ask is that we be allowed to live without WANT. That means being able to afford basics like food, heat, clothing. Is it so much to ask?
I'll not mention resuscitation. That's another story.