Once upon a time, in a land far away there lived a widow and her young son. The widow had always been kind to her son, as long as he did what he was told, but woe betide if he stepped out of line! \u2018You can always be replaced\u2019 she said to him; \u2018There are plenty of boys out there who would love to come and look after me in return for a warm house and regular meals.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n
With Christmas approaching the widow sent her son to the market to buy their Christmas bird. \u2018I want the biggest, the fattest bird you can find. But don\u2019t pay too much for it. Mr and Mrs Pool over the field make sure I know what things cost.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The son set off. He had in mind buying a beautiful bird, just big enough to feed the two of them over several meals. He had heard talk of a turkey \u2013 but surely that would be too big? And anyway, how would he get it home?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When he got to the market there was so much on offer. There were beautiful pheasants, plump chickens, even the odd goose. And there were turkeys \u2013 masses and masses of turkeys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The son remembered his mother\u2019s words \u2013 the biggest, the fattest, and don\u2019t overpay. He wasn\u2019t quite sure what that last bit meant, but it was a worry. What if he inadvertently paid too much?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe he should get a free-range organic chicken? Quite big enough, guaranteed to be tasty; affordable but nothing like as big as the turkeys.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The son was mulling over what to do when he saw a stall selling live birds. The birds were nowhere to be seen \u2013 he presumed they were round the back, away from the crowds, to stop them running away.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But one was out front, sitting there quite calmly with his face in a book. It was huge, bigger than any bird he had ever seen before. And then it spoke to him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You looking for a turkey, mate?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The son thought this was unusual, but not knowing too much about turkeys he thought he ought to be polite.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Yes\u2019 said the son; \u2018For me and my mother. We want the biggest, fattest bird I can find. And be aware that I know very well what things cost.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Of course\u2019 said the turkey. \u2018I\u2019ll take whatever you\u2019ve got, and I\u2019ll even give you something back for your trouble. After all, you\u2019ll need to get me home, and you\u2019ll need to learn how to cook me won\u2019t you?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At this stage the son started to feel a little anxious. Admittedly he didn\u2019t know much about turkeys but he was pretty sure they didn\u2019t talk, or indeed read. Didn\u2019t they just go \u2018Gobble, gobble\u2019?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
He was also fairly certain they didn\u2019t have four legs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018How come you can talk, and it seems, read? And how come you\u2019ve not even said \u2018Gobble gobble? Isn\u2019t that what turkeys do? And whilst I\u2019m at it, what\u2019s with the four legs?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018You\u2019re a smart lad\u2019 said the turkey. \u2018You don\u2019t miss much. I\u2019m an educated turkey; I\u2019ve gone out of my way to better myself. Yes I can do the goggle goggle bit \u2013 but that\u2019s for the tourists, not for smart customers like you.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018The book is my escape \u2013 if you lived with the idiots I live with you would do anything to get away, even if only in my imagination.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018And as for the legs \u2013 I\u2019ve evolved. I\u2019ve had to, after all how else are customers going to get me home?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Fair enough\u2019 said the son. \u2018But hang on, what\u2019s this goggle goggle? I have never met a turkey before but all the ones I\u2019ve read about say \u2018gobble gobble.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018Well\u2019, said the turkey \u2018Maybe in learning a new language my natural diction has slipped a little. I have to admit I rarely have any call to speak turkey. Like I say, I live with idiots.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018So let me get this clear\u2019 said the son. \u2018You\u2019ll accept the little money I have; you\u2019ll walk home with me; you\u2019ll give me some of my money back (and you won\u2019t tell my mother, or she\u2019ll have that off me in a flash); you\u2019ll tell me how to cook you; and you\u2019ll taste delicious.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n
\u2018That\u2019s it\u2019 said the turkey.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And so they set off. The son feeling pleased with himself, the turkey goggling away under his breath.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
They got home.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The son rushed in to tell his mother the good news. \u2018You\u2019ve done well, son. Let me take a look at this beautiful bird, and let\u2019s get it into the oven\u2019.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The son took off his coat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So did the wolf.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Allegorical fairy stories involving widowed mothers, na\u00efve sons and animals in disguise rarely end well \u2013 and this one is no exception.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Happy Christmas.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Cog Blog will be back in the New Year.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Once upon a time, in a land far away there lived a widow and her young son. The widow had always been kind to her son, as long as he did what he was told, but woe betide if he stepped out of line! \u2018You can always be replaced\u2019 she said to him; \u2018There are […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[1],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1415"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1415"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1415\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1417,"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1415\/revisions\/1417"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1415"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1415"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.bjanda.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1415"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}