Chomp

It's the church Summer Fair on Saturday and, as expected, the day before is a rush of last-minute things to do, people to contact, items to buy and so on. 

I was meant to be 'coordinating' the event, but wasn't at all surprised that this meant 'doing' lots of silly little things like buying books of raffle tickets and rolls of sticky tape, printing off signs for the various stalls and toilets (it's an outdoor event in the manse garden, but the toilets are next door at the church) and so on. 

Other people had tasks to do too, of course - I'm not suggesting it was all down to me - but Friday was a busy and 'bitty' day and ended with a group of us down at the church in the evening putting up gazebos and laying out chairs and tables, etc. 

One of the tasks for which I had volunteered was to buy the hot-dogs, sauce and mustard for the hot-dog stall and I got a rather strange look from the lady in front of me at the supermarket check-out on Friday afternoon. I think she was wondering if I was some poor old individual who was unable to cook for himself and whose diet consisted solely of hot-dogs and mustard, occasionally replaced by tomato or brown sauce just to give me some variety.

It would have spoiled that illusion had I told her I was actually buying these for the church summer fair, so I just nodded and said "hello".