How bread and dripping won

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How I agree with baffled IH (May 27). I claim I won the war on bread and dripping.

In the Leeds hospital where I did my nurse training we had a half-hour break each morning. During this we had to race to the nurses’ home to put on a clean apron and cuffs and have a snack of doorsteps of bread with a choice of margarine or the delicious dripping of those days.

For me, no contest. I was 18 years old, hungry and would easily have won a bread and dripping eating contest. Also whatever chocolate came our way, usually from patients, we devoured with enthusiasm and longed for more. Fruit, I remember, was canned peaches with evaporated milk - a special treat for hospital Sunday dinner puds.

On days off we patronised Woolworths for six penn’orth of chips and gravy (chips certainly cooked in lard).

Despite this apparently unhealthy growing-up diet I’ve reached 86 years of age and though I suffer from practically every old-age ailment in the book, the NHS (bless its cotton socks) is doing its best to keep me alive a bit longer.