Friday, October 19, 2012

Tagged by the CIA

We had a make-do meal tonight. Because:
a) Husband had a bad stomach on Wednesday night and was supposed to be starving for 48 hours;
and b) I was going to have beans on toast.
But:
a) Husband couldn't go without eating;
and b) we didn't have any bread.

So when a hunt through the fridge revealed left-over gnocchi and left-over squash dinner became gnocchi gnacchi (copyright me). In other words I roasted red onion, courgette, garlic and squash then added a tub of Husband's home-made (and home-grown) tomato and chilli sauce, before topping the lot with cheese and serving it with gnocchi. And very nice it was too. Although I've come to the conclusion that anything made with butternut squash tastes nice.

* * * * * * * *
I've been followed around all day by a beep-beep. I've come to the inevitable conclusion that I must have been, unknowingly, tagged by the CIA (because British security forces would never do something so sneaky) and my battery's running out.

I can think of no other feasible explanation.

* * * * * * * *
Driving past the playing fields the other day I said to Husband, 'Oh look, those goal-posts look as if they have shrunken heads at the bottom.'
Husband glanced across (it's all right: we were waiting at traffic lights at the time) and said, 'They're wheels.'
'Wheels?'
'So they can move the goalposts easily.'

That's the story of my life: I keep thinking I've got it and they move the goal posts. Husband did add, 'I'm glad I have a wife with an imagination.'

I like to think he was serious.

* * * * * * * *
In work today a woman phoned me on behalf of a drug awareness something or other. (I must try to listen properly when people introduce themselves and not turn off as soon as they say 'I'm from ...') She said I'd agreed to sponsor a school to enable them to receive a supply of drug awareness books and dvds.
'I did?'
'Yes.'
'Are you sure?'
'You're Liz Hinds?'
'Yes.'
'Then yes.'
'I don't remember.'
'It was back in May.'
'Oh okay.'
'Did you have a particular school in mind to sponsor?'
'As I can't even remember agreeing to sponsor I think that's unlikely.'
'Well,' she mentioned a local school we have links with, 'are in need of a sponsor.'
'Oh, okay.'
'So the basic pack is £179.'
'Whoa, wait.'

I am so innocent. Or stupid. The thought that sponsorship might mean money hadn't even entered my head.

I got out of the conversation by saying I'd have to check with people in our youth cafe, maybe they knew something about it. 
They didn't.

Which leaves me wondering: did I agree to sponsor? Or was it a scam? But if it were a scam it's not a very good one. It would have to rely on administrators having bad memories and being useless at their jobs. There can't be that many of us about.



5 comments:

katney said...

Once years ago when we were involved in Cub Scouts a boy came up to me at a pack meeting and announced that he had read 271 books in the readathon. That's nice Stephen. And that is $27.10. Huh? I didn't sponsor you Stephen. But Mr. S did.

At least he didn't sponsor him for a dollar a book.

nick said...

Improvised meals can be surprisingly delicious. We've had a lot of very tasty curries concocted from whatever random vegetables are lurking in the fridge.

Liz said...

I wonder how many of those 271 books he could remember anything about, katney!

Curries are wonderful for left-overs, nick. Or is that vice versa?

Rose said...

If the CIA is following you around, Liz, I'd like to read their report:)

Liz said...

It could be entertaining, rose!