Last night at Scrabble club, all my years of preparation finally paid off. People have scoffed at me. But no more!

When S. arrived at the club, I was odd man out, so I immediately offered/begged for a game. He had his arms full of stuff, bags and the like, and I began to set up my board, rummaging through my (disorganized) bag for racks and tiles. And gum. And a cough drop. And a pen.

Meanwhile, S. was rummaging less successfully in his bags. He’d located a salad but was muttering under his breath. I found the other wooden rack and slapped it on the table.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a FORK in there, would you?” he asked sarcastically.

He obviously doesn’t know me very well. “Why -- yes I do!” I opened the outside pocket of the bag, pulled out a stainless steel fork, and handed it to him.

He took it without further comment and ate his salad.