Yesterday afternoon I was visiting friends on a ranch in Kenya when the kids came home for the weekend from school in town. The eight-year-old demanded that his dad and grandfather take him out shooting before sunset, and appeared a few minutes later carrying a slightly beat up double with a shortened stock. I asked to have a look and found myself holding a Churchill XXV which had belonged to the boy's great grandfather, bought from another farmer here in colonial times. Everything works, and with some attention to the wood the gun would clean up nicely.
