Cake Every Day

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Indulgence does the heart good, especially with family.

When I was training as a nurse and on geriatric secondment at an old workhouse in the East End of London, a cry could be heard most days echoing in the large lobby from the depths of one of the wards. ‘Cake, every day, cake.’ Over and over. The tone was flat, the voice deep, the complaint, I think, was of monotony.

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