Turkey

I know its early but Fellows has just called to say the turkey has arrived. Old man Tomlinson has made the effort to deliver it himself, God knows we deserve personal service having supported the butchers for so long. I remember when Grandfather told us about when he had the property seized, after the original Mr Tomlison was caught poaching Venison in the lower hundred. I'll never understand what they did, and for whom, to be presented with it back after the War.

Anyway Tomlinson arrived in his little van and it took two of them to carry the bird into the kitchen where Dawkins was waiting. I'm not sure whether this was actually a turkey or a small ostrich it was that big! By the time Dawkins had removed the giblets, which I generously allow her and fellows to share as a bit of a treat (what was known as humble pie in years gone by), it was nearly lunchtime. Tomlinson was rubbing the breasts, and thighs with butter (the turkey not Dawkins!) ready to cover it in some of the farm bacon. Completely ready the bird (again not Dawkins) was then placed carefully in the walk in cold room.

The venison and goose are already prepared and so its just the final ceremonial dousing of the pud to be completed before we are actually ready for the big day. That and inserting the proverbial sixpence are the only real manual labour I have to do for this Christmas lark, which is good considering the amount it seems to cost me.

That reminds me, Fortnum and Masons are delivering the hampers with all of the trimmings this afternoon.