Marvellous mayhem

Love them or loathe them, hunt balls are an integral part of most packs' social scene - and fundraising efforts

- Tessa Waugh

A NECESSARY evil or a get-me-in-there night of the year, hunt balls provoke extreme reactions of dread or excitement depending on your age and stage. They begin as an essential rite of passage - a chance to party with the grownups - and feature highly in the days where partying is a priority. The single go there looking for a mate.

From your 30s onwards, you might take the hunt ball on pregnant, ditch the heels and dance all night in your tights. It is in the 40s and after that the appetite begins to wane. The word "duty" comes up and that is never a good one in the context of a party. You go along to “support” the hunt, and if you're lucky, the reservations roll away with the first notes of your favourite song.

A seasoned attendee of these occasions through the years, Shropshire's Neil Gittins confesses, “I've banned myself from hunt balls. Too often the aftermath has meant spending three days in a darkened room with the fear.”

He names potential trashing of all your best clothes as another reason not to go again.

“You lose your tie, your gold studs, leave with footprints on your DJ and your lovely cashmere coat gets stolen from the cloakroom.”

The ever-expanding cost of these evenings is another turn-off: "Having paid for the tickets, you get there and are robbed again," laughs Neil.

"The raffle, Heads and Tails, paying £8,000 for the shooting lot in the auction that you later realise is a walked-up duck day." Nevertheless, he admits that in fundraising terms, they are essential.

"When a hunt ball can make up to £20,000 and a pointto-point makes £3,000, it's a no-brainer," he adds.

NOT A BUCKING BRONCO IN SIGHT

IN the 1950s book, The Impossible Horse by Christine Keir, the heroine is Jan, a young girl with a talent for riding difficult horses.