Missing those great days of Mob rule
I have bittersweet news — and the sharp tang of the bitterness is much stronger than the soft comfort of what sweetness there is in it all.
Followers of this diary will know how much I have enjoyed the company of the Mallerstang Mob and the exceptional sport to be found with them under the absolute rule of their supreme leader, Reg Metcalfe. I joined the Mob three or four years ago, though I had shot with them fairly regularly as a guest for at least half a dozen seasons before receiving the high honour of membership.
It was a shoot built on moles because Reg was, and still is, a mole-catching superstar. This and
