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Wednesday, 19 September 2012

day fifty-one and a strange recipe/hidden message

Nothing to eat! thought Ron, looking down at the empty plate. He looked at the recipe book which still lay open on the table. Unn! There on the page, in Benny’s careful hand-writing was written: “Spy in the Soup”. It looked just like a recipe, but when he read it, Ron found it contained a hidden message:

“Spy in the Soup”

Step 1: Peel and chop six large potatoes and ten carrots. I was out on patrol this morning and saw a mysterious birdlady near the top of the mountain. She was wearing a bureacrat’s hat and moonglasses.

Step 2: Put the water, about 3 litres, on the stove and bring to a boil. I slipped behind a rock and proceeded to watch the birdlady’s behaviour. She was apparently signalling with a small mirror. I looked and saw flashes of light reciprocating from another mountain top. I realised the birdlady was a spy!

Step 3: Add the soup stock and the vegetables and three large onions, finely chopped. I soon perceived the flashes of light to be in Int-it code, and was able to make out a few words: “policebirdman”, “spoon”, “bartender”, “trylobite”(maybe), “mahogany inlay”(maybe again), “thistle”(or possibly “whistle”), “up your jumper”(not sure about that either). I also watched the flashes from the other mountain and caught the words “get the beetroot soup recipe”.

Step 4: Cook the soup on a low heat for about thirty minutes, adding salt and pepper to taste. The birdlady finished signalling and the flashes from the other mountain also stopped. Then she turned to look in my direction and put her wingflipper up to her moonglasses. Although I didn’t move a muscle I think she must have seen me, because she pulled out a kind of pistol thing which she shot into the air above her head. This caused snow to fall around her like a screen. When the snow stopped a few seconds later she was gone.

Step 5: Add paprika or herbs or anything. I hurried back to the Soup Shack and got the rotor-sledge ready for an anti-espionage  reconnaissance trip.

Ron couldn’t believe what he was reading! What was going on here! Bwaarrmble! His stomach rumbled again, rattling the spoons in the drawer. He hurriedly turned the page of the recipe book to find out what happened next.

© David Severn 2012

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