No, American Thanksgiving is not on the Friday, it's Thursday, always Thursday. Suddenly, everything fell into place for them. That was why they had already delivered three turkeys locally, in addition to the one I was collection. (I had no idea they delivered.) They pointed over to local streets and directions, indicating where those other three American customers live.
We moved to this town two-and-a-half years ago. I have never run into another American here, but figured they must be around somewhere. It's nice to know how to find them, for future reference. At least, the local meat-eating Americans.
It happens every year. I think I will make a token effort at American Thanksgiving, and then, a couple of days before, feel compulsed to do it properly. In this case, it really was only going to be larkvi and us up until I ordered the turkey. I wanted lots of leftovers, so they recommended a 6 kilo bird. They checked stock and didn't have one in stock, but I was willing to be talked into an 8 kilo one.
At this point, no one else had made it yet, and I was seized with a conviction that, poetically, the one-and-only time I managed to produce a perfect, enormous turkey, would be the one-and-only time that absolutely no one else would be able to come, not even C. They would be stranded in central London, foiled by transit, and I would be alone, all alone, just me and a giant bird.
Happy ending: everyone else was delayed, but not foiled. There was plenty of food, and good friends. About half of them were Americans, even the two who were visiting from Canada. I had very little chance to talk to them since they were here barely two hours (what with delays and all), but that's okay. The leftovers are not intimidating since they saved me from a surfeit of Certain Turkey.