Josh is 16 tomorrow, and, since some inconsiderate swine has scheduled a GCSE exam for tomorrow, he had his party today.

No, not childish games, jellies and a magician.

No, not getting legless with his mates and throwing up in the gutter.

A shooting party: clay pigeons which apparently don't have a close season and are fair game even on a Sunday. Despite the spaniel's attempts to retrieve, they decided to barbecue the burgers and sausages they had bought rather than attempt to cook the game they had shot.

Since neither barbecues nor country sports are madly my thing, and Joe and I had gone to church in the morning, I put in a token appearance after lunch and watched one round of the shooting. They offered me a go, but, since I have never handled a gun and can't hit a dartboard at six paces, I said thanks, but no thanks to that one.

Anyway the round I watched was well and truly won by the home team although Jacob started with a dismal round failing to hit even one of his twelve clays, and the next couple of shooters were hardly better with scores of 0 and 2. To be fair this round was set up to be particularly hard, with the clays coming in to a background of woodland and rising briefly over the tree tops before swooping down into a group of Norway Spruce.

Then it was birthday boy's turn, and after a few misses he managed 5 and remained in the lead for a couple of no score rounds until his uncle (with his own vintage 1928 gun) scored 7. Ian (ex-police marksman) only added another 2 for the visitors, before Tommy equalled Josh's score bringing the home team's score to 17.

When Tommy started by missing the first three there was a lot of hilarity and remarks like "He'll be more used to a sawn-off where he comes from", and once he started hitting the clays "Whisper 'the social' in his ear, that should put him off." Yes, Tommy - a member of the Thompson Clan through marriage to Josh's cousin Joy - is a scouser, and apparently it is perfectly all right to make the sort of remarks about the natives of an English region which would be racist if directed at an ethnic group.

Another nil points for the visitors, then a disappointing 4 from Glen who is generally a very good shot, but nonetheless a reasonable addition to the 21 - 4 whitewash.

The shooting party them moved off to a different (and easier?) stand, and I - social duty done - set off down the valley back to my car.

I now have to admit that I forgot to take my camera with me, but here is a picture of the location of the barbecue looking back towards the farm, with the shooting site a furlong or so behind the viewer.
Wold Farm2

The observant reader will have noticed that no mention has been made of the birthday boy's mother, sister, older brother, cousins or grandparents.

Grandparents and cousin Roger had been and gone by the time I arrived, Helen and Jess had a long standing appointment with a Pony Club Event of some sort, Joy and Kirsty were keeping their respective under-fives out of the firing line, and Joe was being Joe and staying away. Such are families.

Monday
Jacob tells me that he scored a full 12 at the next stand, which all goes to show something - I hope that it is not what a liar my nephew is.