Shooting Times & Country Magazine
Many happy returns to us
Richard Negus attends Shooting Times’s 140th celebrations at Holland & Holland’s clay ground
What is known, is the average house price in Northwood — in the leafy London borough of Hillingdon — is a wallet-assaulting £984,321. It remains unknown what the owners of those houses felt about the report of an 18th-century artillery piece within the environs of their wellheeled commuter paradise. However, the sensibilities of the Northwood denizens mattered little to Patrick Galbraith. He had a match in his hand and a primed Spanish naval cannon to fire. A spit, a phut and a smoking boom gave signal to the assembled Guns that the Shooting Times 140th anniversary clay shoot had begun.
Warm welcome
The Holland & Holland Shooting Grounds was perfect for the event. The fine old gunmakers, along with fellow partners GMK, made guests feel most welcome. A few of my fellow Shooting Times contributors were among the teams who wandered across manicured lawns to their first clay stands. I regularly read in these pages about the skilled marksmanship of my writing peers. Jamie Tusting is forever killing stuff, I know that Simon Reinhold rarely fails to hit stuff and Aidan Hartley lives in a part of the world where if he misses stuff he gets eaten by a leopard. Would I shoot straight,
“A smoking boom signalled that the anniversary shoot had begun”
I wondered, or would
I be outed as a fowl duffer? It was with no little trepidation that I unslipped my old Zabala — the AYA No 4 was in for repair and my ugly Hatsan far too plastic and semiautomatic for a smart affair like this.
Each stand was manned by a member of the Holland & Holland coaching staff. What a help it was to hear their hints and tips. My team mate Ollie Harvey, the deputy editor, received whispers in his ear that he was shooting in front; I was told I was 2ft behind. Jonathan Mcgee — the final member of our trio — was left to his own devices; he rarely missed. Stand after stand we faced high geese, springing teal, speeding grouse and a flush that blacked out the sky. We also got to play with a Beretta 28-bore and semi-auto 12-bore, followed by a Holland Royal, which I placed very carefully back in the gun rack. Our score cards filled, the teams wended their way back to the clubhouse and the air was filled with excuses and regrets, boasts and disbelief. Jonathan Ward took the laurels with a 78 and although I hate to brag (I will), my team won the flush.
Lunch was delicious and somewhat eclectic. I spent most of it chatting with Liam Bell and Geoff Garrod’s long-suffering wives; it was fascinating to hear the keeper’s tale from a spouse’s viewpoint. We were called to order for a speech by Patrick, who made apologies for absence. Tim Bonner was rough shooting in the Hebrides and Sam Carlisle’s wife had just gone into labour.
The Editor reminded us of our history and heritage, and drew our attention to the ongoing role Shooting Times plays as a champion for shooting and practical conservation. He left us all in no doubt that he is proud of his magazine and its part in British sporting life. Time to cut the cake. The talented baker had fashioned a remarkably accurate, if oversized, pink-footed goose. Good old, slightly barmy Shooting Times
— here’s to another 140 years.