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Okay, so after a week of fruitless searching, I decide to hit the one butcher's shop I haven't tried to find a turkey. And on the way, I got waylaid by the guy from whom I buy my fresh vegetables (he was packing up from the market today), who told me he knew a guy in Tipperary who might be able to get me one by tomorrow. In a freaky twist of fate, the guy from Tipperary was actually fifty yards down the street, having a cup of coffee in Insomnia. Unfortunately, as I've come to be reminded in the past week, I am one month early for turkey. People over here have turkey for Christmas, so there's no point in selling it early, really. As I was talking with the guy about the turkey, a VERY effeminate man, in what appeared to be the garments one would wear when attending the opera in 19th-century London, who had possibly the worst teeth I've ever seen in my life, came over and interjected that he knew a few good organic butcher's shops, etc. He was nice, and he had good advice, but I couldn't get over the costume. Because that's what it was. No one, and I mean no one, voluntarily dresses in a top-hat anymore, no one wears a cravat, and above all, no one carries a monocle for ANY reason other than selling me some choice property on Baltic Avenue. So I tore myself away and ended up buying the *very last* turkey in the butcher's shop. Of course, I think that 25 euro for a 5-kg. turkey is pushing it, but it comes with the scarcity, I'd imagine. That, and 'tis the season to shaft Americans desperate for even a simulated trip home. Anyhow, on the way back, a man (different man) passed me, apparently dressed as Sherlock Holmes. Same typical hat, sweeping brown overcoat, and pipe all included. That's all for now. I think I'll try to throw together a post later. Post a comment in response: |
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