Be very very quiet..........

Not sure exactly why this is funny, but it struck KitKat as such and he felt I should share. Let me preface this by stating that he thinks homosexuals and guns go together about as well as straight men and pink leotards. They can wear white ones on a football field, chase each other around, shower en mass while slapping each other’s butts, but heaven forbid pink comes into play. And I think KitKat must have meant gay men and not homosexuals in general. I mean you know those lesbians and their plaid lumber jackets. What better way to set off all those wonderful muted colours than with a lovely slate grey 12 Gauge?

Back to my story - KitKat and Lord Fauntleroy purchased the house I used to own with my sister and as thorough as I was, I did miss changing my address with the odd person/company/organization that sends me mail. As I just moved up the street they would drop off any wayward mail or packages or call me to come round and pick it up. That is how our friendship started, and two years on it is still going strong. Even without the mail.

Thanks to our bungling government and their idiotic gun registry, a piece of post turned up at my old stomping ground just the other day. (Having law-abiding citizens register hunting rifles is a silly public relations stunt that has ended up costing us taxpayers millions. But that’s not for here. This is Light and Flaky after all.) Having registered my shotgun years ago and never having heard anything more, I assumed I had fallen through some bureaucratic crack and was free to tote my gun around like some fashionable country-life accessory.

Much to my dismay, I now find out that every few years I have to pay $60 (that cost you my vote Mr. Martin. Oooops, there I go again) and supply a passport style photo in order to remain in “good standing”. It’s cheaper to register for my driver’s license. And that includes the photo! That does it! I am going to start hunting with Lucy - that’s the name of my car. Of course hitting those ducks might prove tricky. Lucy isn’t a very good swimmer you see and she doesn’t know how to fly. Maybe I can trade her in for Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang or something.

I think KitKat pictures me tromping through the woods in stilettos, cocktail in hand singing “The Hills are Alive with the Sound of Music” or some such thing. Don’t be silly dear, one doesn’t sing while hunting, it scares away the game. No music aside, I find the entire experience rather civilized really. Why just a couple weekends ago I was invited on a lovely hunting getaway. Saturday morning saw us up early and out after pheasants. We lunched down by the lake and then returned to the manor house for a dinner of pheasants with fig stuffing – delicious. We were supposes to hunt again the next morning but our host was stabbed in the back while sitting in his office that night. Tragic. Gosford Park used to be one of my favourite places but will never be the same again.