It may have been thumbing through this month’s edition of ‘Pull’ magazine (yes I know, pretty dodgy name but it’s got nothing to do with dubious mating techniques, honest) or it may have been that I haven’t done it for 6 months, but when I woke this morning, I just knew I had to do it again, and soon.
Opened top safe and found the key to the bottom safe and in there was the key to the gun safe, or was it the other way around? Anyway, out came the trusty, if overlong, Beretta Sporter. Then another key hunt, this time for cartridge stowage access and finally into the Nissan for a trip to Kingsferry on the Isle de Sheppey.
Forty minutes later, having survived a rain soaked dash up the M2 and re-acquainted myself with the Wednesday crowd at KFGC I’m standing on station 1 ready to call for the high bird. Pull, whirrr, BANG. The clay’s flight singularly untroubled by 28 grammes of steel (yes steel, we’re all PC and non-toxic at KFGC) traveling at 400m/s. High 1 is arguably the easiest target on a skeet layout (Low 7 is the other contender for the honour) and I'd just missed it with the greatest of ease. Protocol requires that the target is repeated, so it was, I missed it again and then again on the pair and that point I considered sawing the Beretta into small pieces and throwing the bits into the nearby River Swale. Seeing my dejection (and tantified foot stomping too no doubt), the kindly Dave, button pusher extrordinaire and master skeet coach with magical powers, whispered a few words of wisdom into my ear-muffed shell like.
Words of wisdom indeed, they must have been because the following 122 targets were dispatched with a precision that amazed all on-lookers and most especially, allatsea himself. Blimey!! I'm still in shock and now concerned that never again shall I achieve such wondrous results. Was it Dave's magic words or was it innate skill?
The answer is, undoubtedly, 'Dave's words'. The man is GOD. If only he could give me a few pointers when it comes to FPSO sailaways.
Dave, about this sailaway?
