Turkey Troubles

A while ago John left his camcorder on a late night train, sadly it was not handed in and John learnt a hard but valuable lesson. Always make sure you never leave anything behind! John now gets manic if there is anything left on the back seat of the car when we go out.
I am telling you this by way of an explanation as to why yesterday John, me and a frozen turkey boarded the train for our Saturday jaunt.

I planned to take the turkey to my cousin’s house once John and I had been out and about on the train. It was wrapped in a Sainsbury’s bag and an M&S bag as an extra safety measure. I had taken it out of the freezer a couple of hours prior to leaving the house as it was to be cooked on Christmas Eve. I put it behind the driver’s seat, completely forgetting John would see it, and we drove to the station.

On Saturdays I always take a back pack which leaves me hands free to manage John and the variety of ‘things’ he needs to take with him wherever he goes. They are, in no particular order, his headphones, a tape recorder, a camcorder, an iPod, a picture of his boyfriend…don’t ask! and the round wind up musical part of a baby cot mobile, which he usually hangs from his bottom lip.

As I grabbed the backpack from off the back seat, John with eyes like a hawk spotted the plastic bag containing the frozen turkey and pointed at it saying ‘bag mummy, on train.’
I explained it had a turkey in it and we would be taking it to my cousins later, but John was having none of it. ‘BAG, TRAIN, NOW MUMMY, PLEASE.’ he demanded, pointing at my back pack and looking over his shoulder incase the man who had stolen his camcorder was also a frozen turkey rustler waiting to pounce.
‘But John it’s a feckin’ frozen turkey’ I pleaded ‘Too heavy for mummy’ pointing at my arms and performing an exaggerated stagger around the car park to demonstrate my feeble strength.
John was having none of it so after much effing and jeffing, squeezing and zipping, John, the turkey and I went to buy our tickets.

The man in the ticket office is always pleasant and takes time to talk to John. John got to him before I did and immediately shouted ‘Turkey’ into the microphone, and then to make sure the man knew exactly where it was John banged the backpack and yelled ‘Turkey! bag!’ giving it another wallop for good measure.

The turkey wasn’t huge, would feed seven apparently, but it clearly didn’t take kindly to being bashed. I staggered about trying to keep my balance as the icy cold bird pressed itself into my back. Gosh it was cold, I couldn’t see me surviving the journey to West Kirby without losing several toes to frostbite.
John leapt up and down, laughing, slapping his head and pointing. ‘It’s not funny John’ I said through gritted and by now chattering teeth, but to John it obviously was.

The man came out of his office, I thought he was going to check out the turkey for himself so I was somewhat surprised when he put his arms around me and the turkey, and kissed me smack on my lips, which were rapidly turning blue. ‘Happy Christmas love’ he said, then he turned to John ‘who’s coming to your house on Christmas morning?’ obviously expecting John to say Father Christmas… ‘Jay and Rachel’ replied John whilst getting the man in a headlock. This is John’s way of hugging people but if you don’t know him it can be a scary experience.

The man didn’t realise John was hugging him, he thought he was trying to stop him from kissing me. I could tell by his body language that this was the end of our brief affair.
Mercifully the sound of a train in the distance was enough for John to release the man, who was turning bluer than my lips and he ran off over the bridge, John that is not the man. I hobbled after him like Quasimodo as the turkey’s weight took its toll.
Once on the train I noticed the bottom of the backpack was a bit wet, I should have realised then….there may be trouble ahead.

First stop was that very classy card shop Le Bizz owned by an old friend of mine. He had kindly promised John a free balloon of his choice. John skipped along the road shouting ‘Pizz! Balloon!’ at everyone we passed. When John is very excited and happy he has no volume control and today was no exception. Waiting to cross the road he was yelling ‘Pizz Pizz’ at the top of his voice, which to the untrained ear could have been misconstrued. So I felt the need to shout the correct name of the shop just as loud hoping to put everyone’s minds at rest. Then he bobbed his head into the charity shop and shouted ‘Pizz’ presumably explaining why we wouldn’t be popping in to search for CD’s today, rather than commenting on the smell wafting out of the door.
Once inside this little treasure trove John started videoing everything in sight and getting in every ones way. John chose a ‘Happy Birthday’ balloon because it had a Dolphin on it, while the turkey and I shivered in the background.

It was with a feeling of dread that we finally left the warmth of this lovely magical shop and headed for The Dungeon of Gloom…AKA The Electrical Shop.
I have never seen anyone else in the shop in all the time we have been visiting it, maybe people think it’s closed, maybe if there were more lights on people could see there are items inside for sale!

John burst through the door with the balloon still shouting ‘Pizz’ and ‘Balloon’ followed by ‘Dohin’ which is John speak for Dolphin. The turkey and I staggered after them, my chin almost touching my knees. The miserable man’s shoulders sagged and the moustache managed a little twitch, but clearly there was very little Christmas cheer to be had.

I was by now so cold and in much pain after giving the feckin’ turkey a piggy back round West Kirby that I was starting to feel miserable too. Only John remained excited. The words ‘Pizz Pizz’ echoed around the shop, John had his head inside a Bosch washer dryer while the Dolphin floated merrily in the air. The miserable man clearly thought John was being uncouth. I explained about the free balloon from the kind man in the classy card shop, with the French name. I jokingly said that he should feel free to give John a free flat screen TV, but the miserable man just stared and said nothing. I don’t think he got the joke.

It was then that I noticed the miserable man looking towards the door so I followed his gaze. There was a thin wet intermittent line running from the door towards the two of us. I looked at the miserable man, the miserable man looked at me and I felt the turkey press itself against me trying to hide. I shivered, the miserable moustache quivered and John unaware of the thin wet line, insulted a ‘Hotpoint’ by shouting ‘Bosch’ at it.

The turkey and I turned around to look again at the wet stain and then back at the miserable man. I shrugged my painful cold shoulders unhelpfully, ‘well its not me’ I said, adding for amusement purposes only ‘I’m not one of the Tenna Lady brigade just yet’ adding ‘You must have a leak’ and I looked up at the ceiling to confirm my point. The miserable man tapped me on the shoulder and pointed to his shoes, ‘very nice’ I said, thinking ‘he is seriously weird’

John then bounded over with the dolphin balloon and realising he had forgotten to mention it, yelled ‘Turkey’ and pointed to the bag. The turkey sagged in anticipation of another wallop from John, I staggered and as I did so, I saw a round wet stain where I was standing. Me, the miserable man and John looked at the wet stain. ‘Wet’ said John helpfully pointing and yelling ‘Ahaaa’
In a split second I came to my senses and realised it must be from the turkey slowly defrosting in the back pack. I started laughing with relief and John joined in not knowing why but he does love a good laugh. The miserable man who has probably never laughed out loud in his life just stood there.

‘It’s the turkey’ I said to the man by way of an explanation and pointed to the backpack. ‘I am taking it to my cousins’. John joined in ‘Turkey! Crackers! Poppers!’ he added helpfully. ‘My shoes’ said the miserable man…I thought, what is it with this man and his shoes?
‘Shoes’ shouted John flashing his new trainers thinking it was a game.
‘They really are very smart’ I said to the miserable man and I looked down again at hi shoes as if to marvel at them. I realised that the left one had a wet stain on the toe….’Oh! I am sooo sorry’ I said handing him a crumpled tissue.

The man disappeared and came back with a mop and bucket, I offered to mop up but he declined. I apologised again, wished him a very merry Christmas and the turkey, John and I staggered skipped and oozed our way out of the shop.

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