Those brave, brave plum-in-the-mooth "aristocrats" who gallantly take to the moors each August have the same effect on me as the smell of vomit. If only somebody could find a way to fit the grouse with guns and train them to fire back---now wouldn't that be exciting. Rapaire and others---damn' right; if you want to kill it, be hungry enough to eat it, or know someone who is. "Trophy" hunters? They were all real nasty little kids---and haven't grown out of it.
Hope you found your coat, Giok.......