Watching the hunt and remembering Lady Docker

The hunt passes before me

Coming back from Clare, I was held up at the sight of a hunt in the far fields, the riders behind a distant hedge going slowly after the hounds. The hounds broke through, circled a wood, then came up the fields towards the road, crossing in front of me. The Master crossed behind them, sounding his horn to summon the stragglers as they ploughed through the mud and across the road ahead; then away through the next field in pursuit of the scent (a drag, since live hunting is banned), and called across the fields some strange shout to the hounds to steer them back to the course.

A lone farmer patrolling the perimeter of one of his fields, came up beside me. I asked him what he thought of the hunt, traipsing across his newly sewn fields, but he didn't mind. He added that the saboteurs were entitled to their opinion, as long as they didn't resort to violence. But out here in the quiet lanes and fields, there was no sign of opposition, and most country people respect these ancient traditions and pursuits.    

We watched Andrew Marr's show, The New Elizabethans, tonight. It was the last episode of three enjoyable reminders for us oldies of our shared past 65 years. One feature was Lord and Lady Docker, and their gold-plated Daimler. My brother, Richard, phoned to remind me that it was built in 1951 when our dad was working at the Daimler plant in Coventry. We lived in Leicester, but he travelled each day to Coventry by motorcycle for work, until we finally moved there. He was a wood worker responsible for the wooden trim, and fitted the trim and veneer dashboard for that very car, so his work toured the world and now sits in a motor museum.

Lady Docker's gold-plated Daimler dash