|Our New York snowglobe caught in the Christmas lights|
It's been a day for old traditions.
We bought the tree, decorated the living room and ate mince pies (the best sainsburys could muster) in front of the fire.
|Chris and Cannon Robert|
Chris went to Church this afternoon and collected his confirmation certificate from the vicar, and dressed in wellies and smelling of dung, I met them both after the service to capture the "official moment"......it always amuses me , that on all formal photographs Chris has a tendency to show off his Roger Moore eyebrow......
|Which one would you choose|
And on a fairly festive feeling day....I will leave you all with a heart warming tale of Christmas past....
Five years ago, at the beginning of December...I had only one turkey living on the field.
Boris was a mere youngster then...a rather skinny adolescent with a winning nature and an lonely disposition, he spent the short days of winter wandering his enclosure in the vain hope of finding a busty mate.
Unsure of exactly where to get a female turkey from, I put an advertisement up at the post office which read
Female TURKEY for sex starved Stag
looks and age immaterial
No time wasters Please
On the 5th of December I received a phone call from a poultry farmer in Hollywell, informing me that he was about to cull his entire flock of English Whites, and if I was quick I could have one female!
I jumped at the chance.
And minutes after the call, I found myself standing in a huge aircraft hanger of a barn, looking at 800, fat, stupid and very loud Christmas turkeys.
"Help yourself" the farmer said and I suddenly found myself with the awesome responsibility of choosing one turkey survivor out of hundreds!
which one should I pick?
Which one looked more nervous?
Which one had the most gentle or needy expression?
I was literally spoilt for choice.....as 1,600 dark soulful eyes watched my every move......
Who would I save?
Which girl would have the opportunity to gallop gaily in a green field with the sun on her beak?
I looked pleadingly at the farmer for inspiration, and without a pause he bent down a picked up a slightly slickly looking female who just had been pecked on the back of her head.....
"Here... have this one" he said..... as he plonked her under my arm
"What should I call her?" I asked, trying to make conversation
He smiled and laughed
"I'd call her fucking lucky....that's what I would call her!"
And that's how Gloria appeared here on the field!........
I told the story to Jason today, when he stopped by when on a dog walk....
"You're a regular turkey Oskar Schindler " he said brightly, when I had finished!