This is the first year since I moved to London in 1989 that I haven’t celebrated Thanksgiving.
Even when I lived in a teensy hovel in Deptford, we always cooked a turkey and invited all the foreigners we knew, and in more recent years it’s grown into a huge sit down extravaganza — with all the trimmings.
I love Thanksgiving, love the idea of pausing to give thanks for not having broken my neck falling off a horse, for my thirteen-year-old still speaking to me, for the book being nearly finished, for not being a turkey…but this year I’m giving thanks for a peaceful weekend.
Belated happy thanksgiving – peace sounds a good gift to yourself! I saw 100s of free range turkeys at a farm at the w/e and delighted by the flock having a go running (at me and the dog). The turkeys seemed to really enjoy racing but even at this stage are so fat they have to waddle. Another comic moment: I expect you heard that Bernard Matthews – the mass turkey breeding man from Norfolk – died this thanksgiving. It’s the stuff of turkey fantasy.
We saw Bill Bailey on Friday night, and he was hilariously funny about Bernard Matthews — said the only thing that would make his life more perfect would be Chris deBurgh being bludgeoned to death by a Lady in Red.
I’m borrowing that anecdote!