When I was, say 12, my best friend knocked on my door and handed me a goldfish in a polythene bag, bulging with water. She said her Mam had sent her 'cos she said they had too many, and she said it was an ideal pet - being that it was very undemanding.

I accepted the gift and my best friend went home smiling. I smiled too at the novelty of it. This had never happened before (or since): you just don't open the door and then have a goldfish thrust upon you!

But, over the years, I had opened our door to many an intriguing stranger. Once to a painfully thin man with a beret. He immediately started talking to me in a flowery singsong tone, that set his thin moustache dancing above his upper lip. I was mesmerized. Mam wasn't. She left my side and reappeared with her purse and bought a string of onions from him.

She told me he was Johnny Inghan and he'd travelled from France on his bike to sell onions to the locals.

Imagine that? All that way? From France, cycling through England and eventually pedalling up the Berridale Brae to get to Caithness just to sell onions? Wowsers! No wonder he was as skinny as a rake!

Then there was the day I opened our door to a salesman who sidled past me into our livingroom with his mysteriously small suitcase. When he unlatched it, we were all disappointed to find that it only contained tins of shoe polish. Mam's first choice was to decide on a colour, and second choice was to send him packing.

After that, Mam declared, 'No more, Valerie Anne!' And that she could have bought 5 tins up the High Street for the same price. And that we weren't even needing polish! From now on, I was to say she wasn't in - even if she was.

Lying didn't sit easy with me. It seeped through my pores so that if I didn't close the front door quickly enough, I was sure the word 'Liar' would appear on my forehead - in capitals.

So, when the Asian man knocked and wanted to come in with his suitcase, I spent too long hesitating. Hesitation and silence speak volumes to a good salesman. It was his mention of lucky beans that threw me. 'Lucky beans with every purchase,' he'd said. And had added, for good measure, 'Bad luck if you don't buy.' I was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

But even Mam was impressed when she saw the neatly packed garments, jam-packed into his case. He withdrew colourful items with a flourish, like a magician, and draped them all over our couch. It was quickly reupholstered in patterns and colours, unlike anything in a Plumbs' catalogue!

Before he started on the armchairs, Mam bought a thin muslin tea towel and a thin cotton apron. Both of dubious quality. Both equally inadequate for purpose.

Mam scowled when she later examined them. And didn't seem happy that, at least, we had the lucky beans.

So, when I appeared with the goldfish, I proudly held the plastic bag aloft and exclaimed, 'Dont worry! It's free!'

But I was so wrong.

Quite a few months later, we worked out that Goldie had actually cost us over £350 (in 1970s money)! In detail: Goldie needed a bowl, that was updated and upgraded to a tank that eventually contained a filter, gravel, a castle to swim through, a sign that said 'No fishing', a diver and plastic seaweed. Then Goldie seemed lonely and needed a real friend from the pet shop. When they both died, we got a heater for the tank, a shoal of tropical fish, coloured gravel and real living plants. The tank was placed pride-of-place on the livingroom unit.

At some point in the future, one of my kids would be seen stirring the contents of the tank with a wooden spoon. Q: 'Why are you doing that?' A: 'To make them go faster!'

Getting back to the present...

A couple of weeks ago, my sis gave me 2 lots of seed potatoes - Desiree and Estima - 8 tatties per pack; packs costing £1 each. I had already been thinking I wouldn't plant any tatties this year. Remember that I only have a courtyard garden and my crops have to be in tubs? I'd been pleasantly surprised by my last year's crop, but the shaws grew very high and needed staking, and weren't that pretty to be honest. In the autumn, I planted a showy shrub in the tattie tub.

But I couldn't waste the new seed potatoes. So, I went online and bought 2 tubs, deep enough for tatties, plus some good compost. In all, this has cost me over £40. I'm mindful that I could buy a few sacks of tatties for £40, and that my harvest is unlikely to be so fruitful!

My advice: always be wary. Sometimes FREE comes with a large price tag!

: )

I love you sis!