A farmer friend, in that casual manner which endears but also infuriates, rang up on 29 January to ask me to his cocks-only day on the 30th. “I haven’t got anybody else yet,” he said in a pained voice. “They all seem to be tied up, but I’ll keep trying.” The fact that people had other engagements that couldn’t be cancelled at the last moment to suit him was beyond his comprehension.
I, too, had a long-standing luncheon appointment in town but I wasn’t going to miss the shoot if at all possible. Fortunately, my host, also a shooting man, was understanding enough to let
