My treasured heirloom
David Profumo, writer
When my late uncle was Governor of West Africa, after the Second World War, he was obliged to shoot a rogue lion that had been marauding through certain villages. On his return to England, he had Purdey make up several cartridge bags from the skin and one of these—unused and still resplendently golden— was hanging in his gun room when he died.
It was passed to me and, instead of keeping it merely as an object of interest, I use it out on shoot days, on which it’s often met with incredulity. I expect it will be hanging in my own gunroom when I die, by which time, I imagine it may be unique.