The Beginning.

I was born in late 1921, the fourth child in a family of six. We grew up in idyllic surroundings in the North Devon countryside with everything you would expect to find in the way of country life pre. World War 2. From an early age l can remember my parents showing Great Danes, while we played with our various dogs and horses. One of my earliest memories of interaction with animals was riding a fat Shetland Pony which bucked me off frequently, but this did not deter me as l continued my love for horses and ponies for the next ten years. I went on to ride show ponies up and down the country for various owners which unfortunately meant no school until l was 15 which l will cover a later post.

My first encounter with Bull Terriers was due to my mother's hunting friend who bred and exhibited them. At the young age of 11, l accompanied my mother on a visit to her friend's house and can remember my mother pulling up outside the house, going to the door and ringing the bell before running back to the security of the car. I was slightly confused by this but realised soon after that the two White Bull Terriers living within where exceptional guard dogs. After admittance and being shown to the drawing room, movement was not advisable until the owners appearance. My mother was not keen on Bull Terriers as you can appreciate but l fell in love instantly and from that day onwards l helped with their eight Bullies. I spent many happy days with Mrs Channer's (sitting on the right horse)Bull Terriers and knew then that l would only ever want one breed of dog. This would not happen for many years as my mother would not allow one in the house and also l could not afford one.

As we lived in the countryside hunting was a massive part of our lives and we would go 2 days a week during the winter. Nothing would be thought of leaving on our ponies at 7am in the morning following our mother on a 10 mile hack to the meet. We would hunt for 5 hours and then ride all the way home which might be further than we had rode in the morning and then our ponies had to be rubbed down, fed, watered and put to bed before we could enter the house. My love of hunting and watching hounds working has continued to this day and l believe it was a great loss to countryside life when it was banned a few years ago. At the age of 14 l was given the honour of being blooded by the huntsman, which in them days was like the trophy of the chase and the mask still hangs in my hall (pictured above).

That is all for this installment, and l hope you have enjoyed my first little entry. I hope any Anti hunt people will not be offended by the last paragraph but hunting in my early life was very much a part of country life. Below are some pictures which are all titled.

Thirteen, l think.

My family riding to the meet with my mother in the middle.

My mother.

My friend Michael and me.

The Hunt.