BICESTER WITH WHADDON CHASE
30 December
catherine.austen@futurenet.com
@cfaustenl23
Bicester with Whaddon Chase, Bucks
ALTHOUGH a sign of a good day, a week later the Doddershall clay is still refusing to come off my hunt coat. Luckily, I heeded Lucy Holland's advice to a young girl, nearer the sodden “ground” on her pony: “Keep your mouth firmly shut when galloping if you don't want to eat mud!”
And there was plenty of galloping. Hounds barely stopped hunting all day. The Bicester Hunt with Whaddon Chase, colloquially known as the Bicester, is a premier pack with a famous history, renowned for sport, and certainly didn't disappoint.
All important engagement acted as a prelude to the meet, as the kitchen at Frank Goss's Upper South Farm - his home for the majority of his 90 years - bulged with masters past and present, hunt staff and many more, wishing this most loyal of farmers a happy new year.
“Whisky and milk, Andrew?”
Not a chance. I had forgotten about this traditional Bicester drink, favoured by a Bicester-trained former kennel-huntsman of mine. I feared a raw egg would be added to the mix, too.
