twenty-three

Well, Advent is supposed to be a time of waiting and today was certainly an object lesson in patience for those of us who had opted to order our turkey from a particular local farm. It would have been easy to get cross about having to stand in the rain and freezing wind, but this being Christmas it is a bit easier to look on the bright side and I found myself really rather proud to be British today. I mean, is there anywhere else where people would queue in these conditions without a murmur of complaint? I would be interested to know.

On a more serious note, as someone who thinks buying local food is really important I was a bit frustrated that this farm hadn’t arranged things better. Sure, the converted among us will always suffer for the satisfaction of having a free range turkey that was raised yards from where we eventually paid for it, but I would have had trouble convincing a sceptical neighbour that this was better than being warm and dry in a supermarket. The staff kept saying ‘sorry about the weather’ as if there was nothing they could have done about it, but there was a large, almost empty barn where we could have waited.

I’m sure this little fellow wouldn’t have minded some company.

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