NEW SERIES
AS a horse-struck teenager, the time eventually came to inform my parents of my intention to become a vet. They were both doctors, with I feel sure aspirations for me to follow two of my older brothers into medicine. I expected a frosty response and got it. As a child, my father had seen one of my grandfather's point-to-pointers Hobdayed (a common throat operation to correct a restriction in airflow into the lungs when exercising) in its stable, and it clearly had not been an edifying experience.
It was in the 1920s, in the days of chloroform anaesthesia and cavalry-twill-clad grooms. One can picture the Edwardian vet removing his bowler
