Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Friday with foxhounds. Again hard hunting hounds in lovely country. Fine loud cry and plenty of drive with precipitous coombes. Like this one...
Under the new dispensation of course we are nothunting foxes, so there is no holloaing of foxes. Since we are nothunting them. So imagine my difficulty when we heard hounds running about a quarter of a mile away down the end of the coombe. And then…
Up and over he came. And just after he slipped over the ride, along came a whipper-in with half the pack! Uh oh…
Nothing. Ten or twelve couple went right over that fox’ track no more than half a minute after he crossed, and not even a sniff! Talk about no scent! Yet the other halfish of the pack was roaring right along. Not on this fox I might add, their quarry went along the coombe at the other end.
Monday, November 26, 2007
This day was “flushing”, that is, according to the Court’s judgment, we’re supposed to push deer toward guns. Here’s how ignorant the court is- how many guns? One for every deer in the woods. Sheesh.
Weather was drippy rain and cold. Very Homehunt like in that we were right in the forest, with no visual contact at all. Still both hounds worked hard. Two hinds were shot, I helped drag one out- backwards, with no rope.
One interesting incident happened at hanged man’s tree,a little forest clearing. We were waiting there, and a couple of little old ladies parked too- one was the bag lady. It’s an irritant to me that "those damned foot people" park their cars in such a way as to partly block the roads, angering and endangering every non hunting voter who comes along.
So anyway, bag lady parked half in the road on a blind curve in the woods. Then suddenly I heard a groaning and moaning- here came a CEMENT TRUCK barreling along. Fortunately he swerved, but it was close. Ah yes, making friends.
The guns are something you wouldn’t see in the U.S. They are break open twelve gauges, but they have some sort of barrel constriction which takes them out of the “shotgun” class and into the “firearm” class. Shotguns are the least regulated class of guns here, requiring far less formality to possess. The barrel is short, less than 24 inches, which puts in in the class of “slaughter weapon”. This means that it can be used near a road. They have open sights and are loaded with buckshot.
Seems like a slug and a dot sight would do better.
Afterward we went back to kennels to watch the carve up of the deer. It’s interesting how little fat there is on an animal compared to even a fit human.
Flight was uneventful, my seat mate was a ten year old boy of Indian descent, with his family traveling to London. Very quiet, I slept through all but five minutes.
Went to the car hire and signed off, an upgrade! A small car rather than a tiny one. And off!
On to Frome, where I spent the night. I stayed in a modern sort of hotel outside town, then went in to have a feed. You know this talk about binge drinking in our city centres? Even here! I went in to dine at the George Hotel, whoa! The bar room next door was booming, aggressively tarted up girls and criminal looking men staggering in and out of the door, shouting and screaming. THREE big burly bouncers! In FROME!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
"Doctor, I have this recurring dream where I'm at work, everything is fine and then suddenly I'm wearing slacks and a blouse..."
The other day I was driving along, musing on anxiety dreams. I too have dropped out of dream school, and quit dream work too. (So now that am I a dream illiterate bum, where's my dream welfare?)
Aaanyway, I was thinking about the dreams I once had where I'm at work, and everything is fine, and then I realise I'm undressed below the waist. No one else minds, that's how I know it's a dream.
And the thought jumped into my mind, if I were a stripper would I dream I had trousers on?
At what point would the dream adapt? When I was a groom, the dream was being unprepared- the extra girth not packed or the spare stirrup leather still in the trunk instead of on me. When I changed to a credentialed, grown up profession I became prepared but naked.
How about part time, this is just temporary strippers? Are they naked at the day job instead? Both? How about other naked(ish) workers- life guards, Olympic divers? Do ballet dancers dream of climbing boots?
I don't know any strippers, but the internet does, so I started googling and found Dreams From A Sleepy Stripper, which is now on the blog roll. I too am at times fascinated by dreams and what they, and the act of dreaming, and our shared dream worlds, mean. Good movie, animal, and death insights, too. It's worth a look!
I still want to know if strippers dream of wearing clothes, and now I have plenty of new things to think about!