Pukka chukkah

On Sunday, tressillian, Sara, Nat and a few of her Aussie/Kiwi chums went (in some style) by stretch limo to the Polo at Windsor Great Park. It was some sort of celebratory fixture between England and the All Blacks. This was too good to be true - an excuse for our eclectic bunch of Londoners and Antipodeans to engage in an all-day bout of social interaction with Britain's finest Hooray Henrys and Hooray Henriettas.

Now Sara, in her inimitable style, did some pre-event research about Polo. Apparently (and I quote), "..the sport is eager to encourage greater participation and open access for all..." Fantastic. "Hoorah! Let's buy a pony and get stuck in...". I hear you cry. By the way, a (cheap) polo pony costs around £30,000.....oh, and one needs 3 or 4 of them to play a whole match. Drat, maybe we'll have to stick to something even more accessible like knitting.

The weekend reminded me of that other great accessible British sport - hunting with hounds. Some of you will know that this has recently been banned in the UK to the great consternation of the country folk. Interestingly, we had a charge-pass by some ragged pack of hunting hounds - accompanied by the obligatory chaps in red jackets. The crowd were whipped into a braying frenzy of blood-thirsty anticipation.....especially when one of our number (Smurf) pointed out (very publicly and loudly as only Aussies can) that hunting was illegal and it shouldn't be flaunted in the presence of HRH and Prince Harry. Thankfully the hounds had passed us before they could pick up Smurf's scent. It could have been messy....