Northern Trip 2023 Gallery
On the second weekend of March this year, we were kindly hosted at the Manor House, Cranborne courtesy of Lord and Lady Cranborne, and Lady Georgiana Campbell from the Committee. It was a perfect setting. The Portman hounds met by kind permission of Lord and lady Shaftesbury who hosted a fine meet. Tom Lyle MFH hunted hounds and it was a busy and exciting day, especially for those who stayed until he blew for home in a huge and forbidding wood. Georgiana had somehow stayed with hounds taking her field over a brashy floor and jumping whatever came in her path. We then enjoyed our traditional Goose and Dumpling supper on the Saturday evening, and attended a very impressive Sunday church service taken by Reverend. Paul Towns from Leicestershire. At the dinner, we were treated to an excellent speech from Nigel Aiken, which included an original poem featured below, and a beautiful rendition of “Tomorrow” was performed by Miss Willow Williams who had just finished a run of ‘Annie’ and was rosy cheeked from her day’s hunting. Our next Northern Trip will be held at Milton, on February 10th 2024, and tickets will go on sale in December.
Almost 20 years ago today
Our Tony let the Antis have their say
Cancelling the ancient sport of Kings:
Hunting to hounds! To tradition we must cling!
While Townies holler on about country life
With no idea except causing strife:
“Privileged! Elitist! Toffee Nosed!”
Images conjured up by those who do not know:
“Downton! Brideshead! The rich man’s sport!”
Biased, blinkered people for whom nature counts for naught,
Refusing to see Charlie as a natural born killer:
Destroying lambs, chickens cornered in their coop:
A dance of death: the rural Thriller!
So country people must fight back!
A posse raised across the social range:
Farmer, vicar, landed gent from the Grange.
Their children smart in hand-me downs,
Shepherd boys, strangers to towns.
Stalwarts squeezed into Hunting Pink
A pocket bulging with a flask of drink.
Teenage girls as pretty as can be,
Cute and flirty for all to see,
Especially their bolshie boy;
Playing to cool but secretly full of joy.
A happy scene for sure,
So why go and change the law?
Fox Hunting is as old as time,
Not snobby sport by the other divine:
The natural contest between fox and dog:
A flash of russet over moor and bog,
Charlie jinking, slinking, vanishing as though in fog.
Then out again the other way
Thrilling the yappy, happy hounds: “make my day!”
Like naughty children let out of school:
“Follow my leader!” puppies career around playing the fool,
Chiselled Huntsman scrunched up in scorn
As crazy couples ignore his desperate blast of horn!
Charlie comes… Charlie goes…
Teasing them, leaving them… all outfoxed!
It is a time for the locals to bond,
A community spirit from around and beyond,
Generous hospitality for friends who support our fun:
Sausages, sandwiches, a Geordie bacon bun,
And for those in need of stronger stuff
Percy Special: cherry brandy with whisky galore!
To warm the cockles… and plenty more.
While Granny has her say:
“It’s how it is and ever was in olden days!”
Indeed! A carnival sight
Watching the wastrel tottering just the right side of tight!
While hard riding men, polished boots and polished horn
Hold the pack… a task forlorn
As wild children scutter round
Feeding tit-bits to the hungry hounds!
Dolce et decorum est.
Dear old England at her best!
By Nigel Aiken
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