A wrong turn here and there
You just can’t tell sometimes how things are going to turn out. A lot of years ago I was working in Singapore, flogging the South East Asia route for a British finance house long since consumed by hungrier predators. It was hot and humid for all and it was almost Christmas when a postcard arrived:
“Can you come and shoot second Tuesday in January? Usual suspects, usual time, usual form. Let me know. Uncle Philip.”
Now is that the perfect shooting invitation or what? Everything you need to know and no faff whatsoever. So obviously I sent a postcard back by return:
“Yes. Thanks. Roderick.” The thing was going to take a bit of management, though. My shooting clothes were at my flat in London but my guns, and my car for that matter, were being looked after by my family in East Anglia.
Still, not to worry – the plan would just have to be to fly out
