DARTMOOR
26 November
Edited by Catherine Austen
catherine.austen@futurenet.com
@cfausten123
Ivybridge, Devon
LAST season, I had a memorable, if occasionally hair-raising day hunting hounds in the eye of Storm Dudley on the Quantocks from the late Anthony Trollope Bellew's, after which the locals said they would have cancelled if we hadn't been visiting. I had thought that day was crazy until a recent day with the Dartmoor hounds in the face of an unnamed foul tempest.
I had been boorishly studying the forecast all week and, as a non-native, took measures. However, as I sat at the meet, with a Ri-Dry mac over my hunt coat, I felt absorbed by waves of misplaced vanity. By 2pm, when the master's breeches had turned completely pink from his running red coat, I felt smug inside, although completely unable to move my numbed face to display any such emotions.
“Her bog radar is acute, so beware”
RACHEL WARE ON ANDREW SALLIS'S MOUNT BEA
We had hacked on from kennels to a generous meet hosted by Nick and Penny Collier, complete with hot pasties. On our
