Decs, Confirmation and the Trelawnyd Oskar Schindler

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

Wanted

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!