Small game bird that frequents the highlands of Scotland and on this day (12th August) every year it gets blown to bits by a load of Toffs carrying double-barrelled shotguns.
Today is known as ‘The Glorious Twelfth’. Although I’m sure that any grouse that finds itself with 15 grams of buckshot up its rear will find it anything but ‘glorious’.
Years ago, Kings Cross and St Pancras railway stations in London were full of toffs, their butler and shooting dogs all heading (via First Class) to Scotland to kill wild birds amongst the heather.
Of course in those days all of the men spoke like “Bertie Wooster”, the women all looked like Margaret Rutherford and all of their children behaved on trains as if they were appearing in an Enid Blyton story.
Nowadays it is almost customary for everyone to carry a double-barrelled shotgun on the twelfth of August.
So it’s probably just as well it is Sunday and all the banks are shut.