Yet another FFS* headline from today’s Daily Mail. (*Where the first F= for and S= sake) Bird Flu: Is Turkey Safe for Holidays? FFS, how often have you come up close and personal with poultry when on your hols?
At least the flapping around, clucking and sneezing sort and not one served up with a cream and mushroom sauce. Zero I’d care to bet, though if you’re up close etc for an even more personal reason, well that’s between you and the RSPCA.
The closest I ever recall being to a chicken while on holiday would be about 30 yards. We were staying on Cyprus in an apartment with a balcony overlooking the large back yard of the block of apartments nextdoor where some of the locals lived and where they kept free range chickens.
We were sitting on the balcony one late afternoon when an old woman shuffled into the yard in head scarf of long skirts and she plonked down a three-legged stool. She then went back in the house and returned with a buck that she put on the floor before the stool.
She then shuffled and suddenly grabbed one of the chickens by the neck. (How she managed it I don’t know — remember that bit in Rocky where he improves his footwork by chasing chickens?) It was pretty clear what was for supper that night as she came back and sat down on the stool.
“I wonder if she is going to drown it,” I joked. (Are you ahead of me?) Bugger me if that isn’t exactly what she did, its wings flapping and feathers flying in all directions. We didn’t see what happened next because we were too busy chivying two impressionable young children back inside.
The point is that that chicken might have escaped the old woman’s clutches, it might have developed a head cold after its cold water dip and that might have gone on to become flu, but the chances of me catching it from 30 yards away and two floors up would have been nil.
The old woman on the other hand may have had her comeuppance.