Between a rock and a hard place

ABoUT 30 years ago, I was working for the London borough of Hillingdon as a building surveyor. We worked on aids and adaptations for disabled people, and we did everything from converting a garage into a bedroom to installing a stairlift (which were not so sophisticated then as they are now). one job that stands out was a small conversion for a young disabled lady. Having gone out to tender to get the best price for the work, we finally had the contractor on site and doing the work. While this was all going on, the young lady said that she was going on holiday, but asked us to carry on. I casually mentioned to her that, if she had time, ‘to send us back a stick of rock’. And off she went while we got on with the work. I forgot all about my remark and carried on with my normal job in my office at the drawing board. one day I had a phone call from the security boys at the entrance of the civic centre where I worked. It was a time of high alert when suspect bombs were being investigated around the borough, and they asked me to come down as they had a ‘suspicious package’. When I got to security, they’d left a cardboard tube on the desk and were standing well back. Would I open it? They watched carefully as I opened the package and what was in it? Surprise, surprise — a stick of rock! We had a bit of a laugh, and I returned to my drawing board. I thanked the young lady for the rock when she returned from her holiday and related to her how it had put the civic centre on bomb alert. She had a good laugh, too. Well, the simplest things can cause a stir!

Jim Ashton, Hayes, Middlesex.