Paphos People

TALLY HO!
Samantha graduated from Hartbury College after studying equestrian practice and theory. Aged just eighteen she landed a job at The Cotswold Hunt stables as the assistant groom. She was straight in at the deep end as three days after she started the head groom slipped a disc and was out of action for some weeks.
The Hunt yard was really well organised and the team were many and varied there was The Hunt Master, The Huntsman, the grooms, the Terrier man, the Whipper in, the Slaughter man, the resident Vetenarian and more. They all pitched in to help Sam as much as they could. It soon became apparent that she didn’t need much help, because her experience having owned ponies and later horses of her own since the age of ten, plus her college education stood her in good stead for the job.
The head Groom and assistant groom shared one of the many houses on the hunt yard. The first weekend that Sam was there, her parents threw a barbeque for the whole crew to ‘break the ice’ so to speak. It was a great success and her parents had to stay the night due to over indulgence of the falling down water!
The anti-hunting protesters always turn up to the meeting but until you have experienced the work that is carried out on the hunt yard for the farming community you should be quiet.
The day of her first hunt came, she was up at five, grooming and preparing the horses, equipment and tack ready for the event. Julian, the huntsman, came at seven to see how things were going and was very pleased with his new (assistant) groom.
The hunt was assembling at the Frogmill Inn, a two hundred year old coaching house, and Sam’s parents went along mainly to give Sam their support in her new role. They had never been to a meet before and had no feelings either way, other than to say that the tradition of the hunting practice plays an important part in rural life in so many ways. Ask any farmer about the devastation caused when a fox gets into a chicken house and you will know why they feel how they do about foxes!!
The weather was gloriously bright and sunny, there was a chill in the early morning air, and the field next to the Frogmill was packed with Horseboxes, Range Rovers, Land Rovers and of course horses all in tip top condition. The various smells of the horseboxes, horses, leather dubbin and polish combined to provide an atmosphere of excitement and expectation.
The gentlemen were strutting about in their pinks and leather boots polished and gleaming with shiny brass spurs catching and reflecting the early morning sunshine. The Ladies in their smart black jackets, white lace blouses, Jodhpurs and boots were equally as smart.
Sam had her horses lined up, beautifully groomed and well turned out, as was she, considering all the hard work she had put in since five o clock that morning.
Julian and Mr. Cooper, the Hunt Master, were standing nearby in their scarlet hunting jackets greeting guests and hunt members with glasses of warming punch. The atmosphere was electrifying and the excitement grew as the start time approached.
The hounds were released and immediately started sniffing and snuffling around the gathering horses. The hunt was assembled and the Landlord of the Frogmill came out with a celebration stirrup cup of port for the Hunt Master and Huntsman.
With a flourish and a loud blast on his polished copper and brass hunting horn, Julian gathered the hounds together and they were off! Amidst much shouting, whistling and cheering a grand procession of British Upper Class tradition that goes back hundreds of years, a sight not seen anywhere else in the world.