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Skidmore's Island: Turkey Trotted

...A third guest said: "Yes, we have" and grabbed the parcel of
chicken from where it had been roosting under my arm.
Everyone but me applauded the skill with which the next
guest, a rather showy chap, executed a back pass with my
parcel between his legs...

Having watched his Christmas "feast'' being demolished an impoverished Ian Skidmore was then the recipient of a surprise gift.

I keep going back in my mind to the Christmas when I was out
of work and this pal of mine said: "Do not suppose you will be
having much of a Christmas?"

I said: "If I wanted a mince pie I would have to buy it on
H.P. We will be out on Xmas Day because it is warmer out than
it is in the house. I have promised the kids we will go to
Radio Rentals to watch the Queen's Speech through the window.
Then we are going to a park to mug robins for their
breadcrumbs."

"Not having a bird on The Day then?"

"Not unless I can grab one of the robins as we steal its
breadcrumbs."

He said: "Why don't you nip down to the market just before it
closes on Xmas Eve? They practically give birds away.

"Then," he said, "come to the Press Party at the Continental
Cinema."

So I did. I picked up a chicken with my last ten bob and
went to the party. Where I set up a record for drinking free
scotch and eating vol-au-vent which was unbroken for many years.

Then this guest said: "Let's play rugby."

Another guest said: "We haven't got a ball."

A third guest said: "Yes, we have" and grabbed the parcel of
chicken from where it had been roosting under my arm.
Everyone but me applauded the skill with which the next
guest, a rather showy chap, executed a back pass with my
parcel between his legs.

I was less pleased than anyone when the next guest followed
through with a drop kick.

It was powerful, I will say that. It sent the parcel soaring
across the foyer, out into the street, over the heads of the
passers-by, to drop, perfectly positioned, under the tyre
of a passing bus.

They were all very apologetic. The manager of the cinema
particularly. He said he hoped the parcel hadn't contained
anything important. I said, no, it was just a chicken I got
for tea on Boxing Night.

For the rest of the party I was a bit thoughtful, though I
did manage to clock up a further freeloader's record of
eighteen scotch and a round dozen vol-au-vents.

At the death the manager came up and gave me a parcel. "I
hope you will accept this replacement with our apologies," he
said.

It was a twelve pound turkey. Which would have been
nice... but we didn't have an oven at the time, just a
gas grill. So we had to cook it a leg at a time.

**

Do visit Ian's Web site http://skidmoresisland.blogspot.com/

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