poor prac­tice

The Field - - Letters -

In Au­gust 1958, my brother and I, to­gether with the fac­tor, a re­tired Nige­ria For­est Of­fi­cer, stood on the right bank of the River Al­mond and looked across to the great rock that bi­fur­cates the river. We were told of the sad day a few years pre­vi­ously when the laird, Gen­eral Whi­taker, was car­ried down from his grouse butt and ev­ery­one’s dis­may when they read his in­struc­tions that he was to be buried on the rock. To their re­lief, it was dis­cov­ered that the gen­eral had al­ready ar­ranged for his grave to be hewn in the rock and the lit­tle wooden bridge was re­moved.

Had the gen­eral been alive to­day I know he would have sent any guns wear­ing pale shirts back home to change (Auch­nafree proves per­fect for the Twelfth, Au­gust is­sue). And any­one ty­ing a dog to his car­tridge belt would have been sent off the hill in dou­ble time. Jonny Ni­blett,

Conon Bridge, Ross-shire

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