Well my friends, I might not have got quite so many Christmas presents as most of you did (yes, Sweet William, you are so right about Gail being a bit of a Scrooge), but let me tell you, my Boxing Day outing more than made up for any meagre haul from "Santa".
Of course you know that I am a fox terrier and my kind were originally bred to take part in the traditional English sport of fox-hunting. Our role was to unearth foxes that had gone to ground when being pursued by the hunt.
Now some of you may be aware that since 2004, more's the pity*, the hounds are no longer allowed to tear their quarry to shreds, and us terriers play no part at all in what these days is basically a gallop across the fields, either following an artificially laid scent or ending up with a fox being shot.
But it remains a strong tradition in South Nottinghamshire for the local fox hunting fraternity to gather in the village of Car Colston for the annual 'Boxing Day Meet'. Many's the time Gail has told me how it was an important part of her family Christmas festivities to drive out from their suburban home and enjoy this spectacle, in the days when 'real' fox hunting was still permitted'.
You can imagine how excited I was when she suggested we go along this year to Car Colston to see what this event looks like in 2014.
And when I caught sight of the splendidly turned out huntsmen (and women and children) astride their handsome mounts, I gazed enviously at the pack of hounds baying at the horses' hooves, and every single one of my wiry terrier hairs stood on end as, in my mind, I re-enacted my ancestral role...
*Gail says: please remember, those of a sensitive disposition, that this is the terrier perspective...
Somewhat Wordless Wednesday
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