Hunting Diary: Falling Like Leaves

My first Croome & WW event was a pre-puppy show in June. While watching hounds and trying to cultivate some sort of understanding beyond “that one looks cute” a young girl came up to me and said “I hear you’re joining our hunt. My name is X and my pony doesn’t like water.”

With the season drawing to a close I had mostly forgotten that detail, but today I remembered it as the pony threw his rider into a deep puddle, and she became the first on a long list of names being sent to Splatman for his write up and £5 fine (payable to the Air Ambulance).


Photograph kindly sent to me by Katie Smith

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Hunting Diary: Christmas Eve

Merry Christmas everyone! I’m supposed to be at the local church service, but arrived home last night with the realisation that my only clothes were breeches, jeans, black tie or gold sequins, none of which are regarded by the Anglican congregation as suitable attire for celebrating the birth of the Christ child.

However, hunting is of course the traditional manner of celebrating Jesus’s birthday. With him being a carpenter he would probably be quite useful at repairing broken hunt rails, although hunting in the Middle East seems to be more of an Arab horse/Saluki/falcon affair.

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