The Hon Lucinda Rides African Prince

09/09/2005

A welcome return to the glen after a lost weekend at Burghley Horse Trials, a huge pile of correspondence and family matters has kept me from this diary for a few days. Uncle Mungo and I had a wonderful time at Burghley where we had access to all areas because The Hon. Lucinda Begg-Trollaigh was astride Mungo’s African Prince. Dear Lucinda tried her best to control the famous Begg temper, but things got a little out of hand when she whipped a judge over a doubtful decision on the backward steps in the dressage. The stewards allowed Lucinda to compete in the cross country, but not in the show jumping where the judges sit within whip range, so in real terms she stood no chance. However, the sun shone and many a glass of chilled Moet slipped down the baronial throat while the sponsors tried to shift everything from Land Rovers, to Rolex watches and Dog Food. Our girls, dearest Dottie and Aunt Morag came down for a good day’s shopping on Saturday and I even managed to winkle Dottie’s mother out of the Lincoln Fens to spend the day with us. Dottie and her mother in enormous sun hats contrasted sharply with Aunt Morag, whose stunning six foot four frame was dressed in traditional African robes. However, the three of them seemed to be able to pinpoint any scandal with radar like accuracy, spending most of the day in hysterics. The only gaff came when a young steward mistakenly addressed Uncle Mungo as “Father” in deference to Mungo’s clerical robes. Mungo, as a card carrying Wee Free Presbyterian who consider the Holy Father to be the antichrist and despite his advancing years floored the youngster with one sweep of his crook without spilling a drop from his glass. The problem was that the steward turned out to be some minor Windsor and yours truly had to pull out all the stops to avoid a minor incident, I have a feeling that the old Trollaigh card may have been marked, so best behaviour for awhile. The gloomy prospect of a large group of sporting guests looms for this weekend. And I have just heard from SEPA that my favourite duck flighting pond is an “Impoundment” of water requiring “Authorisation”, what complete rot. I have locked the better booze in the cellar and instructed Lachie to stick to dispensing Tesco gin and whisky to all but myself. Yours Aye, Archie, The Baron Trollaigh.