A Report from the first Beater-trials. Keep scrolling down, it gets very exciting, keep some tranquillizer to hand. There are now 15 Chapters, as we have finally got to 15, The Conclusion.13, The Scoreboard and 14 The Prizegiving with the last chapter, no 15 published 19/07/09
 The Beater Trials season has started a bit quietly, but the sport is gathering momentum. We’re very lucky here at countrytalk, to be able to report so quickly and directly from the events.A competitor has sent in a report of her first experience of taking part in this exciting new summer activity.We hope that once Badminton is over, people will gather in the countryside to feel the athmosphere of the Beater-trials. It really is very special. There is good news for Spectators: unlike Badminton Horse-trials it is not necessary to rob a bank in order to enter the venue. The Standard charge is £1 per adult and 50 pence /child. Dogs must be kept on a lead in case they should chase the competitors who are out on the course.
If wishing to place bets on the Tote, operated by the Game-keepers Organization, bring a calculator to save time in working out your winnings.

My First Beater Trial, by Annie.  Latest Chapters now at the bottom, all in normal chronological order.Kep scrolling down or click above on the names of the chapters.!

 

Chapter One   At The Start: The Turn Out Inspection.

The day of the trials dawned rather chilly and a fresh breeze was blowing, as so often this spring. It felt strange, parking in the wood-side car-park, with leaves and primroses out, all around us. When we went to the declarations desk we saw that the Official Going was : ’ Good to Firm except in the bog, where it is Boggy.’ We handed in our special Raspberry Voka, as our official Lubricant, to be tested by the judges and were given our number bibs, I was 2 b.
 Our team, for the Greenridge Shoot, consisted of Mike, 2a, a veteran, who had done one friendly trial before, and Susie,2.c,. Susie is quite a bit younger than Mike and me.  Our team had an ideal age-mixture for a mixed sex beating team. We had taken Mike’s advise, that it would have been madness to bring Susie’s dog Trixie for the first time, especially with the birds now in the breeding season.
Our team was drawn as no 2 to go to the start. The Whistle blew, the electonic screen flashed up No 1 and the first team disappeared into the start-box , to have their Turnout-inspection and to receive their instructions.
They seemed to be out of sight for a long time. I felt very nervous. Would we pass muster? I eyed Mike out of the corner of my eyes. He looked very tidy in a flat cap and dark green waxed jacket. I saw him looking worriedly at my hands ‘ haven’t you got any gloves?’ he asked. ‘No’ I admitted, horror-struck. It hadn’t occurred to me, in spring time.  ‘Don’t worry’ said Susie, ‘ I have a spare pair’. ‘ Phew’ I said, ‘thanks Susie, you’re a wonder woman’.
Susie looked smug and absolutly impeccably turned out, as always. Susie is one of those people that always look right, whatever she is doing. It can be a bit trying, but in a crisis, Susie will be the one to turn to for equipment.
 Anyway, we saw the first team, two seniors and very junior boy, set off at a smart walk towards a nearby copse on the hill-side. They were out on the Course! The loudspeaker announced that the first team, from the Hangover Shoot had scored 153 for their turnout. I felt almost sick as the whistle blew again, for us this time, and into the old sheep-trailer that served the judges as a turnout-inspection centre we went. There were two female judges,both looking very stern and with big note-books in their hands. I recognized the formidable D.C. of our Pony Club, Mrs. Stutteridge, as one of them
 The exact marks for the previous teammembers’ Turnout were flashing outside but I didn’t have time to take it all in.
 We could see a lap-top computer, for adding the scores. The Judges quickly looked Mike over. They made him lift up his water-proof trousers and took note of his socks and wellington boots (Hunters) . They whispered together and made notes. I saw Mrs. Stutteridge look appreciatively at Mike’s home-made stick with a little pheasant’s head carved at the top. Then they looked at me. I felt very small and was sweating under my wooly hat. They looked for a long time at my zebra-skin summer wellington boots and I heard Mrs. Stutteridge mutter something about ‘different season’. I hoped that meant it was ok, she never used to think our ponies were clean enough, I hoped she wasn’t thinking about those horrid lumps of dirt on the inside of saddleflaps now. They are called ‘jockeys’, this was not helpful information at this moment. I felt like I was a rather dirty saddle myself.
Then they had a good look at Susie, who was smirking and clearly enjoying herself, just like a show hack in the ring.
 Without any further explanations Mike was handed a radio and we stepped outside the trailer into a gateway. A game-keeper was waiting for us. ‘ Mike, Jill and Ruthie ‘ he said, ‘you’re to beat through the copse, down the field the other side, lined out and go up to the wire fence where you will see a gate-way with a gorse-bush.’ Wait there for a while, and I will give you further instruction over the radio’.Mike looked very knowlegable and was nodding vigorously. I nodded to and tried to look confident. Actually, the Gamekeeper seemed to be from Wales and I found him hard to understand. Mike seemed to be in charge and nobody dared ask any questions.
We un-rolled our flags and set off. The Trial had started!
The loudspeaker reached us with the announcement that team number two, from the Greenridge Shoot had scored 145 for Turnout. Oh dear, we were behind the first team. We forgot about this as a slack barbed wire fence loomed ahead.The first obstacle!

Susie got very cross and declared loudly that such fences should not be on a proper course. I kept shusshing at her, not wanting the fence-steward to over-hear negative comments. Susie clearly had not noticed the discreetly clad fence-steward. As we walked away from the fence I explained to her that we had better try to be positive. She got even more sulky and claimed to be cheerful at all times. She was very upset about the rip in her leggings, that was the real trouble, Susie only wears the best and most expensive of everything.
Mike was more sensible and suggested we line out now. So we continued across the field in a line.Should we be flagging? It was hard to know, where there pretend birds about , would we be marked down if we flagged or if we didn’t flag? I couldn’t see a steward or even a member of another team. We came to a hedge and grouped up in a muddy gateway.

‘Is the radio switched on?’ I asked MIike. Shamefacedly he checked it. ‘I think so’, he said. ‘Well, the keeper said our instructions would come over the radio if we waited a bit’ I said, in what I hoped was a reassuring manner. Privatly I wondered if we were in the right place at all. There was nobody in sight. How long was a while?T

Chapter Three: The Waiting

“ Well”, Mike said, “Perhaps this is the waiting section? I thought that would be later in the course, but you never know, out beating.” Susie and I agreed, it had the feel of one of those long waits in a cold and windy place. “Is it the right gateway” Susie asked. “Didn’t the keeper say something about gorse-bushes?” We looked about us, uneasy, now. We had already been there 10 minutes, and come to think aout it, there was no gorse-bush by this gateway. There were some further out, in the field, perhaps that’s what the keeper had meant. We were not near any other gateway. Mike took charge “ Susie” he commanded” you go and look over the top of the hill, just in case there is another gateway with a gorse-bush in sight. Annie, you go down that way. Be discreet, we may be observed!” I didn’t want to argue with Mike but I thought we should stick together. When you’re out beating properly you can’t have people running around all over the place, by themselves.
Anyway, I went down but there was no gateway on the other side of the field, although there was plenty of gorse. I went back and told MIke. Susie had not returned.
The radio crackled into life” Grtscchhscplt” it said. It sounded like the keeper’s voice.” Control that dog!” we heard clearly. What dog? Was the message for us? Mike pressed the button to speak.”Mike here” he said. “We couldn’t quite make out our instructions.” The Welsh voice crackled a lot. We made out something like ” Red leader to Coffee: proceed to team up with the other line at the bottom of the Bog”. Mike was looking alarmed and replied” Are we Coffee?”  More crackles were heard, then total silence. Mike pressed all the buttons, to no avail. Silence.
 Susie was shouting something from the top of the hill behind us. She was waving her arms about. We couldn’t hear a thing in the wind. “ I think she wants us to go over there, ” I interpreted her frantic arm-signals.
We hastily ran up to Susie who told us triumphantly that she had found a much better gate-way.” How do you know it is the right one? “ Mike asked with remarkable common sense. “ I asked the man who was standing there”, Susie said. Well, that was good thinking, only was it Outside Assistance? Would we face the shame of disqualification?
We made our way to Susie’s gateway. There was indeed some gorse-bushes nearby. We told Susie about our mysterious message on the radio. The man had disappeared. Was he a figment of Susie’s imagination? We heard voices, very far away. Where were the guns? We had not yet heard a shot. Do you hear shots at the Trials? The competition was really testing our nerve now. We conferred and decided to line out and go downhill towards the voices. “ Let us hope it’s not just some ramblers” Mike concluded.    

Chapter Four: The Timed Section.
 We walked rapidly down the hill, flagging, amongst the gorse. Suddenly something made a high-pitched beebing noise. “ It’s the Timed Section Start” declared Mike, who had done one of these trials before. “We have crossed the Infra Red Beam!” Susie squeaked that she needed a pee.” Not now, not now!” Mike said. “Yes, I’m bursting” replied Susie and disappeared behind a gorse-bush for some time. The radio crackled into life again.”Crackle- rackleCoffee,coffee, cross the bog and beat out the hedge on the upper side, theplantationssssssxcracklecrackle” 
 Mike and I looked at each other, doubtfully. “ Are we in the bog?” Mike asked, for the first time sounding not quite so masterful. “ Help, Help!” was heard from the bushy region where Susie was last seen. “You look,Annie” Mike said. He looked rather annoyed.
 I peered behind the bush and immediately told Mike he must come and help. Susie had sunk almost to her waist in a bog- hole! “Don’t laugh” she whispered. Mike didn’t look amused. He took a step out, to get hold of Susie’s other hand, I had hold of her left hand. But no, now Mike sank to his knee in the bog too. He pulled on Susie, to get himself up, but this only succeeded in getting him further into the bog. I pulled on Susie and she pulled on the half-sunken Mike’s shoulder and with a plopp, Susie detached from the bog. Her trousers were round her wellies ( Barbours) and she was very black from the bog, but she was out. With a grimace she re-arranged her nether clothing, which was sodden. “For fuck’s sake, help me!” shouted Mike. You could see he had lost patience. Susie and I looked at each other.” We need help” Susie said. I agreed, I didn’t want to sink in the bog. “ The other team should be down here somewhere” I told Susie.
Mike had little option but to wait, whilst we went in search orf the Hangover Shoot team. “ Don’t hang about!” he ordered.” We’re down on time, now”.
This seemed to me, be the least of our worries, with one team-member stuck in a bog and another plastered in black peat and soaked through, it struck me we were not in a position to get a good placing. Only a man would now fuss about timed sections.” I never even had a pee” Susie now informed me.
 

 “ Oh la la!” shouted Augustus again as a coarsehaired lurcher streaked by, carrying something in it’s mouth. “That’s my dog” said Augustus, “she is Oh la la”,. At last I twigged: Oh la la was the name of the dog! Susie appeared from behind the bush, alls smiles now. “I’m Susie but the call me Ruthie in this competition” she explained. “This is Augustus” I introduced the veteran. “ But they call me Doon, here “ said Augustus, which was rather confusing. “ OH, what has the dog got?” cried Susie. Oh la la came over and dropped a young rabbit at our feet. It was alive. Susie went “Aaahhh” and picked it up. I took off my woolly hat and gave it to Susie, who put the baby rabbit into it and then put the rabbit into one of her pockets.
I was starting to feel faint from hunger. “Don’t we get Soup soon? “ I asked. “ Yes, said Augustus,we should meet the under-keeper in a moment and he’ll take us to Soup. It will be by the Cocoanut Shy”.
“What Cocanuts?” I said, feeling dimmer by the second. “ By the Fair-ground, of course” explained Augustus. So that was what the shooting was! Fairground shooting! “ It’s for the spectators”, explained Augustus “ so they have something to do whilst we have Soup.” It was a real relief to have joined up with Augustus, he seemed so well informed.“  Now then, we had better go and pull this chap of yours out of the bog” he continued. “Adam , Bobby! Come here!”
This time another veteran beater and a junior lad of about 12 appeared to his call. Oh la la had disappeared again.We hurried back towards Mike’s bog-hole, introducing ourselves as we went along. Bobby, the boy, luckily had some mint humbugs in his pocket, which he shared out. Adam, the other veteran seemed a bit put out to have ahold-up but then he told us a long story about abeater who had disappeared in this boggy region years ago and now haunts the bog-lands.It was rather scary.
 The lurcher suddenly ran in amongst us, tail between her legs and stuck by Augustus as though she was an Obedience Medallist. That’s when we heard the roar of a bull, very nearby.

I  Adam was talking on about how Killroy, the bull, was totally unmanagable and should not be allowed out of a severly electrified prison. Seemingly he had massacred half the village.. Well. the truth is, I was getting worried too. I now bitterly regretted leaving Mike behind in the bog, clearly, we should have waited by his side..How could I have left him, just because I was longing for Soup? Thre really was no excuse. How would we be able to face Mrs. Stutteridge?
 I was looking for Mike. Where exactly was he stuck? In which bog-hole, behind wich gorse-bush?I felt terrible, we had been wasting a lot of time, by now.There was no sign of him and yet I felt sure we must be very, very near to the place where he had sunk.. I suddenly spotted a green wellington. It looked like a Gumleaf, a quality boot. Mike only wears good stuff.
 Was this all that was left of Mike? He would never have left the bog without his wellies, surely?
 Now good advice was dear.
 “Shall we call the Police?” asked Augustus. Police? I was surprised, “Wouldn't that take ages.?”
 “No”, Augustus said, and told me that they were already at the Beater-trials in some numbers, to be prepared for action by  anti- shooting monitors, Animal Rights protestors, and that the the Frauds Unit was also present, looking for Mp's who had claimed shooting as one of their expenses.
 I was very impressed by Augustus. He did seem to know what was going on. “ Have you got a mobile phone on you?” I asked. “ Of course,” he replied. I was not surprised. Adam looked very excited. “ Do you think he’s dead? Drowned or gored? ” he asked in a rather hopeful manner.
 Augustus was busy pressing buttons on his mobile. “I’ll ring the keeper” he announced. Nothing happened. “Oh, “ he said, disappointedly,” there seems to be no signal down here.”” Are you on Orange?” I asked. Augustus said, “No, O2” and offered me some Bramble Brandy, pulling a hip-flask out of a pocket. I gratefully took a large sip. This was not a time to be fastidious about the lack of glasses and serviettes.
 The bull bellowed again. He did not seem to be a happy bull. There was not much keep in this bog, that’s for sure.
Oh la la sudddenly took off again, she had seen a rabbit. With that, all hell broke loose.

 “These lads always drive like maniacs” commented Augustus conversationally. He had kept his calm. Bobby, the young lad shouted” Hello Rob!” to the underkeeper. He ran towards the speeding bike. At that moment the bull turned, spotted the running boy and came down the hill towards him, this time he was running very fast. Clearly bulls prefer to run down-hill, I thought. This looked serious.
A very old Land-rover appeared from the direction of the gateway, driven by a farmer in overalls. The land-rover drove between the boy and the bull, neatly opening the door and the boy, Bobby, was pulled into the safety of the vehicle. A girl of about 11 got out of the back of the land-rover, rattling a bucket of feed. All the cows gathered around her and the bull slowed down, now with a bemused look on his face. “ Come on, Old Boy” said the girl to the bull and held out the bucket. The bull went up to her and obediently lowered his head to have a halter put on. We couldn’t believe our eyes.
 “ Is his name Killroy?” I asked the farmer, who looked blankly at me. “ We just call him Old Boy,” he answered.”They escaped from the TB -testing” he explained, they are not supposed to be here at all.The Old Boy is normally very quiet but he always gets upset by the vet.” A further passenger stepped out, it was a young woman in a white coat, or at least, you could see the coat had been white earlier in the day. This was clearly the vet. She was very annoyed. “ Every time I go to that farm something goes wrong” she remarked rather stuffily to nobody in particular. “ This visit has taken 2 hours already” she carried on. “ Perhaps you lot can help us get the cattle back to the yard where the cattle-crush is? You don’t seem very busy” she added, as an unknown man now appeared, on foot , waving a camera with a large lens. “I’m the Official Photographer” he introduced himself. “ For Defra?” asked the Vet. “No, for the Competition, of course” answered the photographer. “ I’m looking to take a picture of the missing man.” Oh, my God, we had all forgotten about Mike! Actually, I had forgotten about the competition as well, the last few minutes had been rather worrying. Augustus now passed his Bramble Brandy round again. There wasn’t much left, but it was of real benefit and brought us sharply back to reality. “ We must find Mike!”
It was only then, with the help of the Bramble Brandy, that I clearly remembered that Mike had been wearing Hunter Wellingtons at the Turn-Out Inspection. So whose boot was it in the bog? And what had happened to Mike?
 

The Vet was fussing about lost time. Being Beaters, the rest of us were so used to losing time and having lots of lost time on our hands that we just ignored her. The truth is, that woman would never make a good beater.
I was still wondering about the lost boot in the bog. But you know how it is, you drive along the M5 and all of a sudden there is a pair of gym shoes in the middle of the outside lane. This is never explained. Perhaps the same thing happens in bogs, boots just arrive?
Anyway, the Mule stopped, with a skid, at the Fairground. We were hustled into a wooden building. Nevertheless I took in a Big Wheel and a Big Screen. Inexplicably I thought I saw Susie stuck on the wire, on the screen. There was no chance to have another look.
 We were now in the prescence of Mrs. Stutteridge. In our Pony Clubbing Days I had always pulled myself together when Mrs. Stutteridge was about and the same thing happened now. From being upset, disorganized and , in some cases, very wet from the bog, we suddenly became orderly teams again. “Tomato and basil soup” Nrs. Stutteridge announced an proceeded to pour it into plastic cups, from 2 large thermoses. There seemed to be six teams present. If anybody didn’t like tomato and basil, they had the sense to keep that to themselves

Chapter Nine: The Vetting.
 The Vet and the Farmer and his daughter were now in the tent with us, having Soup, too. Mrs. Stutteridge looked momentarily surprised but then she brightened up and started talking animatedly to the Vet, in a low voice. The Vet was nodding and sipping her Soup.
 It is hard, even for qualified Vets , to say ‘no’ to Mrs. Stutteridge.
‘Im going to announce it now’ said Mrs. Stutteridge clearly.
 She went up to the top of the table. Outside, there was noise and clapping and various engines running, shots and children shrieking. Inside, we were in a different world. Mrs. Stutteridge’s world.
  Mrs. Stutteridge has never needed a loud-hailker. She should have been employed by British Rail, then there would be no need to do research about poor announcements and dissatifaction amongst travellers.
 “ The Committee has decided that , as the first drive took so long ,” she looked rather witheringly at us, the Greenridge team,” we shall move on to the next stage of the Trials, without holding a second Drive. Normally, the second Drive is for testing soundness and durability in beaters,’ she carried on. I looked at Augustus, who looked as surprised as I felt. Nothing had been said about vettings on the entry forms.
Augustus cleared his throat and said, rather worriedly “ I’ve had a triple by-pass operation, I don’t want to have to do any running..” A youngish woman from the Axbridge team looked very worried and said” I suffer from hay-fever and astma, I’m on medication, shall I leave now?”
 Mrs. Stutteridge was not deterred. “ My dears, don’t worry, there will be no drugs-testing today. I’m sure an allowance can be made for existing conditions. All the vet will check is that you’re fit to continue..” We felt a bit relieved although I heard murmurings of discontent, mixed with some protests about there being no bread at Soup. Normally we always get bread and sometimes croissants or even cheese-cake at soup. Cheese-cake doesn’t really mix all that well with Tomato and Basil soup though. Still, we were rather hungry by now, it had been along morning and just Bramble Brandy, without any bread goes to your head quite easily.

 The vet was listening to the Hangover team member’s hearts now, with her stethoscope. Mrs. Stutteridge was making notes. The other judge had come in and was looking on, in an approving, if slightly vacant manner. It was only then, that I noticed that the second judge was wearing the most unsuitable footwear imaginable, plastic crocodiles! Surely, at the beginning of the day she had been most properly dressed?
 Now the vet was doing flexion tests on the Hangover team.The vet was soon done with Bobby, the youngest member of the Hangover team.” Very high heart-rate, over-weight.”I heard her announce... It was probably the Mint Humbugs..As they finished they were taken out, into the Fairground by the Keeper from Wales.
The Vet came over and listened to Mike’s heart with a frown “ Are you feeling stressed?” she asked. As Mike had recently been pulled out of a bog, had break-neck ride on an overcrowded Mule and was in mid-competiton I thought this a rather stupid question. Mike is , after all, 73 years old.
“ I need some bread, otherwise my diabetes plays up” was Mike’s rather brilliant answer to this unnecessary question. In all fairness, Mrs. Stutteridge now looked a little ashamed. She rushed out and said she would get something sustaining from the Caterers outside. We all congratulated Mike on his alertness.
The Vet listened to my heart without comment but then bent my bad knee up at an impossible angle. The second judge was timing her efforts. After 30 seconds they asked me to jog a few strides. I’m afraid I was hobbling. When they asked me to bend the other knee I couldn’t stand on the bad one so I had to decline. The judge looked very sour and I could se her writing down her observations in the note-book. I was ashamed, but, If I had known about these flexion tests I would not have entered as I know full well I have to be careful with my knee. Like a lot of regular beaters one of my legs has got longer than the other, from all the traversing of hills. Would this be held against me?
Susie , somehow appeared in CLEAN, if rather tight, RED leggings. Naturally, being Susie, this was an easy phase for her. Bladders were never mentioned. She does yoga and is ultra flexible so she sort of passaged through the flexion-tests.
 “ How did you get hold of those clean leggings? “ I asked her, bemused. “ Oh, I always carry some spares in my inner pockets”, she replied, looking rather superior, now there were no cattle in sight. Bothe Susie’s legs are very long and of totally equal length.I know several men who can vouch for that.
 Now she handed the vet the baby Rabbit out of her pocket. The vet listened to it’s heart with a frown.” The heart-beat is much too fast”, she announced. The rabbit actually seemed to expire when it heard this. The vet shook her head and gave it back to Susie, who passed it to me. I didn’t want a dead rabbit but there seemed to be little point in making protestations.
All the while, the 2nd Judge, in her plastic shoes, was taking notes. I had an impression that she didn’t care that much for dead rabbits either, but I may have been mistaken. “ That will be £ 25,” the vet now announced. Nobody answered.
 

We followed his pointing finger and found ourselves with our friends from the Hangover team again, as well as the lot from Bradnich, who were eyeing Mike a bit sourly. I think they regretted pulling him out of the bog. I don’t know why, he clearly was no longer himself.
Adam, of the Hangover Team, was already telling us how one of these Big Fairground Wheels had collapsed last year, killing 37 passengers. By now, I didn’t really believe Adam any more, but, I have always had a tendency to be travel sick and I was now seriously worried.
“ What about Oh la la?” asked Augustus, looking very pale. “ She is sick in a car, nearly every time!” I saw the second judge, in her plastic clogs, taking note of this in a business-like fashion.
“ OH, Augustus, I’ll be sick too, “ I said. “ Just tie Oh la la up down here, she cannot be expected to go on that wheely thing!” I really meant that nor could I. Bobby, their Junior, now offered us some pills in a furtive manner. I took one, thinking nothing could be lost. “ It will help, Annie, “ he whispered.
 Whatever it was , I had time to wonder, Exctasy, Boots travel sickness pill, headache tablet? I really had no idea, nor any time to consider the matter, the gates to the Wheel opened. We walked in, like sheep, going to the Abbatoir.
 

Mike offered the gentleman a chance to feel inside his clothing but the older man looked very shocked. Mike later said that it was a good thing, as the water had made him look very spruce on the outside again, but he was, like me, far from dry on the inside. Luckily, Susie had made it clear that she would not stand any nonsense and the gentleman actually seemed rather impressed, I saw him eyeing her legs in their red leggings in a very longing manner. “ Maximum marks for the Greenridge Team, ” I heard him say into his phone recorder.
“ You may now find the Lodge, for Lunch” the gentleman announced. Mike offered him the very last drop of Bramble Brandy, but the elderly Gentleman sniffed it and said he prefered Raspberry vodka, himself.
We stepped outside and looked around for the Lodge.Somehow we had come out, not in the Fairground, but in a woodland again. I was seriously wondering if it was the Bramble Brandy, or the littlle Pill, or was this all really happening. I had never imagined that Beater Trials were this difficult. I had thought it would be something like a Hunter-trial, with lunch thrown in. How wrong I had been.

Chapter Twelve, Finding the Lodge.
Whilst we were being assessed for water-proofness, the other teams had arrived out of the fair-ground tests. They also looked somewhat shaken, on the whole. Only the Aspenbury Vale team, who had two juniors, looked in a really fit state. Boys will be boys, they wer giggling with Bobby, the Hangover Team’s Junior and possibly sharing afew more of the Exploding little Pills.
The second lady judge, the one in plastic crocodiles, was stilltaking notes. I don’t think the judes went on the Big Wheel. I waved her over to our l;ight;ly sprayed table. “ If you want your wellie, send the Underkeeper back to the Bog, it is by the 4th gorse-bush from the right”, I managed to inform her. “ Oh, thanks,” she replied, looking grateful. I think she was rather embarrassed by her foot-wear.

Suddenly all the radios came alive “ Crackle, crackle, hurry, hurry, line out, line out, all of you, grand finale, hurry, hurry, go slowly” was the order.
All the teams understood and we lined out and proceeded down the hill, flaggging steadily. This was more like normal beating, I think we were all relieved, except perhaps Bobby and Susie, who really had loved the Big Wheel.
Oh la la was now walking at heel in an exemplary manner, with only a baby rabbit’s ear hanging out of her mouth.

We could stride out, and quite soon, we scrambled over the last fence and saw a Lodge in front of us.There was an excellent smell of roast pork in the air. I felt we deserved a good meal.
 

Oh la la felt the same and rushed ahead.The Juniors followed. We all entered the Lodge where we were disappointed to find that only cider was given out for free. Hardly any beaters like cider.
Still, some of our supporters were alredy in the lodge and had brought supplies with them. They now rushed up and pointed at a gigant televison screen in the middle of the lodge. “ Look, look!” people were shouting as there was a close-up of the bull and you could see the boy running for dear life. It looked really exciting, I could hardly believe I had been part of it all.]

We queed up for our meal, which was really good, roast pork, barbecued sausages, apple sauce and new potatoes. The Elderly Gentleman who had been judging the Waterproofness sidled up to Susie, with a very full plate. Somehow he had a whole bottle of wine in his hand. “ We judges get better drink” he explained and kindly offered us some, whilst still eyeing Susie’s red leggings. Altogether, Susie had risen in my estimation.
An unknown Keeper, wearing Keeper Uniform of tweed lederhosen stood up to announce that the Scoreboard was just outside and that the prizes would be given out after Lunch. Oh la la went out, presumably to look at the board. The rest of us were just happy to be fed and to sit down for a minute.  The Television was a bit disconcerting, with it’s pictures of ourselves, from the Trials. We had just never realized we were being filmed. There was Mike, in the bog. There was myself, feeding a dead rabbit to the lurcher... I looked rather fatter than I thought I was, it was a terrible shock. And there was the female vet, whatever was she doing with the under-keeper??? And you could clearly see the lost wellington boot, belonging to the Lady Judge. Nobody was picking it up, that was for sure.

 Chapter 13, The results: The Score board.

Bye and bye, as the various teams had finished their exellent, but rather late lunch, we all collected outside and stood looking at the score-board. It was in a tent on the side, just like at major horse-trials. The main difference was that we were slightly in the dark as how to interpret all the information it gave. To add to the confusion, at the top was an electronic board. It wa just like the ones they have at railway stations that kept a sort of sliding message up: “current leaders, Bradnich,1002 points” it suddenly announced, like you would expect to see next train to Exeter is Delayed for 67 minutes.”” All betting is now finsihed, no more bets taken” it announced. Well, oviously not, who bets this late at an event, after lunch? My head was reeling by now. There seemed to have been an unexpected amount of power in the little Exploding Pills, I noticed the Juniors also looked a bit odd. I hoped I was less cross-eyed than they were.
 My daughters, Araminta and Amanda suddenly appeared, they slapped me on the back and kissed me, I think they were really surprised to find their own mother now being treated as a sort of top-class, or at least, middle-class athlete.
 One of the Tweed-uniformed Keepers now stepped onto a podium and gave a nice Speech. “ We thank all the competitors for the efforts put in today”, he started and then went on to do rather more sincere thankings of sponsors, judges and the Commentator.   “ We also would like to thank Ms. West, the Veterinary Surgeon, for helping out at such short noctice,” he finished and , from somewhere had found a boquet of very unusal flowers to hand to her. I actually think they may have included a Bridegroom Plant. I hope so, that would certainly be very good news for Ms, West. I had a feeling she would never get paid for her beater-vettings but I kept this feeling to myself. I also thought she would find it hard to attract a male, in spite of her money-spinning profession, she was just rather lacking in a sense of humour. The English-speaking Keeper, who was rather attractive, I thought, even when wearing tweeds, which tend to make men look rather like they are appearing in the Sound of Music or some such film, now announced he would hand out the prizes.
 He pressed some sort of button and the Score-board changed it’s electronic format to become more understandable.. Patricia O’Leary, as I had by now gathered the Second Judge to be called, was handing out individual sheets, just like in a dressage competiton...
 It was only then that Plains Cloth Policeman, accompanied by a Sniffer Dog walked into the tent. I had seen the dog outside, earlier, it had been in the que for Hot Dogs, that was what I had noticed, not many dogs buy their own hot dogs.
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“Each individual can study their own score-sheet, so that you can improve on your performances for next time” ,here Patricia O’Leary looked around in a rather stern manner. I think she was getting rather tired too, she had been active all day, after all. And she was no spring chicken.
Mrs. Stutteridge now stepped up with a large box of rosettes in her arms.
 “Third team is the Bradnich!” she announced. The Bradnich scores flashed up on the screen: Turnout 48 , we could read.Beating skills  210.  Flag-handling 43. Navigation 250. Radio-handling 20. Helpfulness 270. Conversation -360.Doghandling 0. Timed section 20 . Water-proofness 54. Beater-lubricant 3. Total : +918 minus 360 = 558.
 She quickly handed the Bradnich team some large yellow rosettes. We all clapped our hands.
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“ Second team: The Greenridge Shoot!” she now called out. We stepped up, to applause. I felt totally surprised.
The Score-board flashed up :Turnout 145. Beating skills 300. Flaghandling 60. Navigation -500. Helpfulness 75.
Conversation 300. Doghandling 16. Timed Section -220. Water-proofness 500. Beater-lubricant 4. Total +1400 minus 720 = 680
We were handed blue rosettes and also a pen-knife each, engraved WELL BEATEN.

“ First Prize goes to the Hangover Team with a score of 800! “Mrs. Stutteridge called out. They got fantastic green and yellow rosettes and two big stainless steel thermos flasks engraved WE WERE NOT BEATEN, with the date and venue as well. A very nice touch and useful too. We felt a bit envious.
 Their scores were just better all round, they had avoided large minus marks, without having any really high-scoring sections.I felt very happy, they had been so nice to us.All the same, I was a bit sorry we had done so badly in the timed section. On the other hand, our Conversation Score was by miles the highest in the competition. “How odd,” I whispered to Susie, “ we only talked about incontinence and things like that..” Perhaps the judge was particularily interested in bladders,” Susie concluded. I wondered how we could have a score for dog-handling when we had no dog. Perhaps it was feeding Oh la la the dead rabbit that had gained us our rosettes. It was hard to understand it all.
 The three unplaced teams looked very sour and two male members of the Westerlodge team were just walking up to the judges loudly demanding explanations and pointing at their sheets and brandishing their mobile phone caculators.
The judges, very nimbly,given that they had a bit of age about them, stepped out of the back door and vanished.
The aggravated competitors had to go through out the front door as the judges had locked the back door somehow. During this time, the judges had stepped into a hot-air balloon basket and were just casting off as we came out on the other side of the building. I could not but admire their forethought and fortitude.
The policeman now came out, looking flabber-ghasted:” I want to interview Patricia O’Leary” he declared.

Chapter 15, The Conclusion

We all looked at the police-man. This was rather unexpected, Patricia O’leary had seemed a model of respectability, if slightly vacant.“Yes, she is wanted in connection with excessive claims for sporting equipment, she is an M.P,” the police-man explained. “We have also found some illegal drugs in a wellington boot.We have reason to believe it is her boot.”
“How do you know that?” asked Augustus. “ It has her name written in biro, inside it, in pink” replied the police-man.
This sounded pretty damning, as evidence goes. “Our dog here, Snarker, found it”he added, patting the dog.
 “ What are the drugs?” I asked, in some trepidation. I had more than a faint inkling I might now test positive for whatever it was.
The police-man replied that he was going to send them away for tests. “It looks serious,” he added. “ They are pills”.
 Bobby and another Junior boy had looked very uncomfortable during this exchange of information and were quietly sidling towards the door. The police-man was very on the ball, for one of his occupation, and grabbed Bobby, just as he was slipping through the door. Bobby looked tearful and imediately volunteered that it was only a joke. The police-man looked as though he didn’t know what jokes were, and got a note-book out. Our whole day seemed to have been recorded in note-books.
”I got the idea from Harry Potter”, said Bobby. “The boys make some terrific sweets themselves in the books.” I nodded, I had also read Harry Potter. “ I thought I would try it” Bobby continued.
”What’s in them?” the police-man asked sternly.
“ Mainly itching-powder,melted down with chilli and a little gunpowder. I found some pills of mum’s in the medicine cup-board that said anti-hysteria or something and the blue pills of my dad’s and we mixed it all up and cooked it until nearly dry, then rolled the pills up and dried them in the oven,” Bobby said, not without pride.
”How did you know how to do that ?” Augustus asked, looking a bit shaken. “ Oh, we just looked it up on the internet”, said Bobby. Augustus looked as though he didn’t know what the internet was, but made no further comment.
The police-man took most of our adresses and told us we were free to go until results of the tests on the pills came back. He got into a police-car, with Snarker. The dog looked very happy behind the steering wheel. These police dogs are incredibly well trained, I had not realized they drive as well as sniff. The blue lights were flashing and I rather hoped they wouldn’t find the judges. 
By now there was dance-music playing and a party had somehow started.
  My daughters appeared again. I asked if we should go home now but they seemed to have other plans. Araminta stated that they had come with her boy-friend and wanted to do a bit of dancing now. It was a bit of a mystery, I didn’t know she even had a boy-friend. “Who is it?” I cautiously asked, girls can be touchy on the subject of boy-friends. Araminta said it was Rob, the under-keeper. Clearly she had not been watching him snogging the vet on the gigant screen a while ago. I decided not to mention that I had.
I went to the bar and somebody put a glass of wine into my hands. I had a dance or two, I think, my memory is a bit hazy from this point onwards.
I suddenly felt so tired I couldn’t even think of driving home. My girls had vanished, possibly in the company of unsuitable boyfriends.
 Augustus appeared. “ There are Shepherds huts at our disposal” he informed me. “ I think I shall escort you to one of them, Ruthie. “ “ Oh thank you, Doon”, I said . I remembered to send a text to my husband, to ask him to feed the dogs and tell him I might be away a bit longer than I had planned.
It had been good day out but a little bit tiring. Here is to the next time!
 All in all, the strangest things happen out beating and in Beater-trials too.

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