That's turkEY not turkISH

Just come back from a couple of days off in The Wagon.
We managed to crack the system again. A friend of mine, on hearing we were off again said ''Somewhere nice I hope, storms are coming in so batten down the hatches.''
Well on the way down/across we had brilliant sunshine most of the day, a dry ''trail around'' at St. Nicholas market at York on Friday, with a couple of showers we managed to make cups of coffee last long enough to avoid. Gaffer's stamina held out and the night's winds didn't disturb us.
Today was the journey back: it was, you might say, a wee bit damp and draughty all the way and the big lads were, mostly missing and/or lurking in lay-bys on the A66, waiting out the wind, I think.

We dropped off at a farm shop near the camp-site to see if we could, metaphorically, catch a chicken for lunch upon the morrow.
We did + Elderflower jelly with champagne, Granny stead's Ginger wine, some ''Traditional Cappuccino Flavouring biscuits'' (Curious, Swedish turn of phrase) and a small sample bottle of A well boasted about vodka.
The vodka site music may interest you.

The farm, obviously, valued their Turkeys quite highly.