Hesitantly, I explained I didn’t pass School C English, and there wasn’t a hope in hell of this happening. Greg wasn’t perturbed at all. Selling the dream of his NZ Hunter magazine, he wanted a new breed of writers who could pass on the knowledge in their chosen field of expertise. Greg sold the dream all right! Once he got off the phone, I was already the next, ‘Philip Holden.’ The bastard made it sound so easy, but then cold, hard fear set in! Good god… I had to write an article, and confident I was not!
We had negotiated that I could scribble a hunting yarn first, followed by some butchering tips and tricks. He smoothly explained they could work some magic with the spelling and grammatical issues. I was thinking they would need more than magic, witchcraft sprang to mind.
I had recently returned from a successful solo hunt to Back Ridge, with my big hairy wookiee, Flint, the German wirehaired pointer.
Keep them coming BRB!