It was 1 pm on Saturday afternoon and after much wheedling I had just persuaded Peter to take me to Chiswick to look at Antiques (he hates this sort of activity with a vengeance). The telephone went - it was Ron just idly chatting about this and that when he said ' would we be at the Fish and Chip Supper that evening?
Fish and Chip Supper I said in a strangled voice.
This event months previously Peter and I had agreed to organise. PANIC. An extremely quick telephone call was made to Superfish, followed by a visit of negotiation. This was followed (if only there had been a camera) by the Carpenter's rushing round the Clubhouse in a frenzy to get it ready for the evening. Fortunately George Bray had organised the accompanying Quiz and jolly good it was too. No sign of last minute panic there.
Twenty members and friends arrived and in due course we collected the order and devoured it at great speed.
I was on a team with Ian Powell (who was the only person to have chosen to eat chicken). Now I was always under the impression that fish was food for the brain, but if Ian's near single handed ability to answer the questions was anything to go by, next time I'm eating chicken. I think I was able to answer one question out of the hundred and that was the mind stretching 'what was the name of Captain Pugwash's boat'. Still I am sticking to the excuse of nervous exhaustion, Peter will have to find his own excuses.
Next time I am going to write arrangements in even bigger writing - for if it had not been for Ron (bless his little socks) it would have been a Quiz night minus the Fish and Chips.