Matt Ramsden on a magical meet, praising of keen youngsters and a school, plus the inevitable lockdown woes
Hacking on to the meet, the air felt joyfully cold yet still, while the hedges looked black and inviting. A pheasant three fields away scuttled off as he heard the gentle jig-jog of our horses, such was the clarity the day had afforded. Hounds awaited the off with eager eyes and a few minutes later, as they peeled away from their first covert with a violent crescendo of music, we all knew we were in for something special.
Each beat of that first hunt provided a first-class ride for the delirious ladies and gentlemen. While the hounds gathered momentum, our horses responded with overwhelming empathy, taking each obstacle with care, sensing the occasion. An hour and 10 minutes later, the hounds concluded a wonderful hunt over a sea of grass and fly fences. There hadn’t been a strand of wire in sight and the going was perfect. And then I woke up.
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