On Xmas day many years ago, my faithful old dog Robbie ran into the house with a large turkey carcass he'd found at the rubbish area of a nearby hotel.
To him this was a veritable coup and he ran around the house and garden for a good few hours with it, leaving a trail of debris, trying to find somewhere peaceful to eat it.
After a while, we decided to confiscate it as he was making a bit of a right old mess.
This was not appreciated by Robbie and he made determined efforts to retrieve it. We ended up hiding it on top of a cupboard, out of his reach.
During the night I felt a bit dehydrated and went down to the kitchen for a drink of water. I was somewhat surprised to see my older brother Gavin sitting at the table with Robbie's turkey carcass in his hands, picking at it and eating scraps of meat from it. He had mistaken it for the turkey that we had been eating for our Xmas dinner. He was not particularly amused when I gently explained the recent recorded movements of the turkey carcass which he was eating.
Robbie was also singularly unamused, not to say confused by Gavin's actions.
I think Gavin can now see the funny side though...
Talking of "turkey shoots", yesterday I played golf with Mr Mark Dance, the elder brother of the famous "Fabulous Dance Brothers" music hall acrobatic act, on the hallowed turf of Dalmeny Estate Golf Club.
It was a beautiful day, the sun was shining, a delightful sea breeze drifted in from the Firth of Forth. Glorious. On such a day, it seemed unimportant who actually won the match, as it was really just all about the pleasure of taking part. But it was me. I won. Just by one hole mind you. But winning is everything and second is nowhere and all that kind of thing, and I also hit the longest drive of the day. No triumphalism from me. That would be wrong.
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