ANY YEARS belonged to a small walk-one, stand-one syndicate that shot fortnightly in the Sussex Weald. It was demanding ground, with small streams sunk in deep valleys while the woods were thick with brambles. Dogs were essential, and one of the rules of membership was possession of a suitable dog, though there were no stipulations as to how well trained it should be. On a normal Saturday we would usually have a dozen or more dogs out — mostly springers, but with the odd labrador and the occasional German shorthaired pointer.
