Now my last post raised an interesting question ( well for me it did) do American's prefer Thanksgiving dinner more than Christmas Dinner?
To the Brits here, a turkey dinner is a Christmas only thing....
I like the thought of Thanksgiving ... but I'd have it in June.
( the painting is a Norman Rockwell ...one of my favourite artists from the US ...my only complaint is that the turkey doesn't appear to be very heavy ( and if you've read my previous post you would understand that I know how much a turkey weighs)
With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I thought I'd pay tribute to an old friend long since gone now.
Boris was a pure delight.
A Norfolk Bronze turkey stag of some age and standing Boris was the king of the Ukrainian Village . He and his sister Grace were gifts from a grateful patient of mine and were hand delivered to the cottage as babies by the patient's daughter.
I knew nothing about turkeys then and I had to learn quicksticks as turkey poults are notoriously delicate creatures who can die easily of disease and the cold.
As Boris grew, he became as tame as a canary and would follow me around in his usual slow shuffle amble. He would spend long periods of time standing by the gate watching cars and people going by and would gobble merrily at anyone who took his fancy.
Strangely the only person who didn't take his fancy was The Prof and the two shared a rather sharp hate/hate relationship where Prof and Turkey would take potshots at each other when backs were turned.
In the new year I may think of getting another turkey stag.
They make clean, loyal and rather delightful pets.
I've had to chase up quite a few things with the kitchen fitters today ( apologies for the yawn)
One email from a manager called Gail, amused me amid the phonecalls, internet exchanges, complaints and answerphone messages
"Good Morning Mr Gay.
Hope you are well. I have tried to call this morning as it has been passed across that you have tried to contact us. I have left a voicemail asking if you could call back, in the voicemail I have mentioned that the installations team haven't been able to answer due to a meeting, apologies this is not correct......"
I answered
" Dear Gail,
My name is GRAY and not GAY
But strange as it maybe I am actually gay so no harm done.
I will contact you after discussion with the new fitter regarding the cost of his works....."
The ever chirpy kitchen fitters brought with them an even chirpier electrician at the crack of dawn this morning so after I'd made them all coffee and shared out a packet of chocolate fingers, it was time to leave them to it.
I am going to walk around and drink coffee, Im going to Browse the bookshop, art gallery and give the kitchen shop a good once over!
What are you all doing today?
The kitchen fitters are a cheerful duo.
After ripping out the old units they presented me with eight washing powder balls, two dog toys, various bits of cutlery and a mummified scotch egg! All items which had rolled away from daylight view! " You'd be surprised what we find hidden away inside old kitchens " Shawn, the lead fitter told me "bottles of booze are the most common " Roll on Friday!
Islwyn ( pronouncing Trelawnyd) for a previous post
There was a small line of cars filling the lane as the Ikea lorry unloaded my kitchen.
I popped from one to another apologising for the wait, and everyone was good natured as they generally are on a weekend.
One chap who lives directly across the valley whistled through his teeth
"Dew......that was a big fire you had the other night" he said" I thought the entire village was alight!"
I replied that I hadn't had a bonfire and enquired what night he had seen the blaze. " bonfire night" the chap explained
One of the nights we were in New York.
I walked on the field to investigate and surprise surprise my bonfire that I had been building for a year now had vanished. The old sofa, four old hen houses, trees, garden waste and an arm chair had disappeared Only a big black ring in the ground remained.
Village Elder Islwyn had been at work
Now every village needs an Islwyn.
He is someone that sees a job that needs doing and who does it, bugger red tape or procrastination.
After the recent storms, many of the churchyard trees were damaged or were felled and although the responsibility for the upkeep of the plot is the job of the community council, Islwyn and his brother cleared the trees themselves, sawed them into manageable chunks and added them to my bonfire before incinerating them on November the fifth!
Job done.
I saw Islwyn's brother tidying up the new graveyard last night. It was almost dark and I joked with him just how impressive the bonfire was to the residents across the valley who thought Trelawnyd was burning .
I also noted how neat the graveyard looked even in the murk of dusk. " we wanted it tidy" he explained " we bury our mother next week"
The cottage is crammed nose to nipple with flatbacks
We went out to Liverpool in order to get away from the clutter.
Walking into John Lewis' Kitchen Department, was like tiptoeing into a piece of heaven for me, and I walked round running my fingers over gleaming measuring jugs, shiny pans and oh-be-still-my-beating-heart a garlic press in the shape of a lobster to die for!
My new kitchen reality is palpable!
The Prof bought me a new rolling pin just to get me to shut the fuck up ( he guessed quite rightly that it will match the new counter tops)
