Back from the dead

One of the rigours of deadline journalism is the discipline imposed on its practitioners at inconvenient moments. That was me, on the morning before Christmas Eve, trying to compose something that would regale my readers, only to be repeatedly reminded that the occasion was not well chosen from my exertions.

First, a friend told me how pleased they were that they’d followed my recommendations and fitted out their 16-year-old son with a light 12-bore in place of the .410 he previously used. Everybody satisfied? Splendid.

Then another friend rang to ask me if I would take into protective custody an old gun that had been