A week ago, I was ghillieing on the river for a group of guests. As they fished, the skies darkened until it was nigh on twilight. Then the rain started and we decided to beat a retreat back to the landrover. As we arrived at the vehicle there was an almighty crackling flash immediately followed by one of those crashes of thunder that seems to come from every part of the sky.
Despite the fact that we all had a carbon fibre rod in our clutches, Thor decided that today wasn't the day for smiting us with his big celestial hammer. No, instead he smote dozens of phones, satellite boxes, TVs, and computers up and down the glen, the b****rd.
And that's why, dear reader, I haven't posted a blog for so long.
The 'Glorious 12th' arrived on the Thursday and we went to the Northern extremes of the estate to do a bit of walked-up grouse shooting. As it was the weather was far from glorious, with prolonged showers of driving rain and heavy cloud just above head-height for most of the day. But it didn't dampen any spirits and everybody had a damnp fine time. I include a pic of one young lady who shot her first grouse. Unfortunately I had to wait so long for a break in the weather that her 'blooding' was just about entirely washed off by the rain. Congratulations, anyway!
It's always a fun week with this group, and usually with plenty of variety. It's also a nice gentle breaking-in for the start of the shooting season. Today, in contrast, was our first day of hardcore.
Organising a line of rookie beaters to drive grouse to guns; 5 drives in a day; with flukey winds and ever-dropping cloud base? No wonder I can hardly tpye a lien.
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