Kirkcaldy & a Giddy Pheasant

Bear with me. It’ll make sense. Eventually!

Kirkcaldy – Kirkcoddy in the Scottish vernacular – is minutes away from Kinghorn where my Paternal family were born. Apart from Lily, who was from OFF…Glasgow.

New Year’s Eve, Himself spent most of the night in Lincoln doing emergency things. A man drowned in the canal that night :o(

Then he found a Blootered young girl lying in the gutter mumbling to herself in a foreign accent. He picked her up and questioned her. Apparently – God’s Honest- she was 19 years old, from Kirkcaldy and in Lincoln with her mates for a Hogmanay Bash because Nicola Fish had banned everyone from Edinburgh. She’d lost her mates, her handbag and her bearings. He put her in his van and called the Police to help re-unite her with her friends. What did said police do? They found a return train ticket to Kirkcaldy in her pocket, drove her to Lincoln Central and unloaded her onto a train home.

Bastards.

Today – I get a pheasant from his latest Emergency Stint. It’d been hit by a car and was wandering the road bamboozled and giddy. A beautiful bird – who is now snug in a box by the wood burner, covered in a blanket to help with the shock.

Pheasant has a 20/80% survival rate. We’re doing our best.

Kirkcaldy – Past & Present

Sense made?

Shrug.

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