DAVID CLENSY meets world champion shot John Pool, and finds out why he and son Dan have set up a country sports shop in the centre of Bristol.

WHEN it comes to country sports, Knowle may not be the first place you would expect to find them thriving.

After all, when did you last see the hunt come through Broadwalk, or hear the barking of gun dogs as they fish ducks out of the reeds in Perrett's Park.

But the suburb is now home to Braces – a new store, which claims to be Bristol's only shooting shop.

Inside you will find walls lined with shotguns and rifles, shelves packed with shooting paraphernalia, wax macs and country boots, and behind the counter father and son team John and Dan Pool are cheerfully serving the customers.

John, 58, and Dan, 25, may be new to shop-keeping, but John knows a thing or two about shooting – in fact, he is the 2010 world champion clay pigeon shooter.

"I won the title out in Italy in the summer," John explains. "Which is around about the time we were buying this place. The shop is Dan's business, really. I retired recently after more than 30 years running my own plumbing business, and I wanted to invest a bit of money in a business in which Dan could flourish.

"Shooting seemed the obvious thing, because we both share a passion for it, and when we realised there wasn't a single gun shop either here in Bristol or in Bath, we thought there must be a gap in the market."

Dan says that just eight weeks after opening, the shop is doing brisk trade.

"There are a surprising number of city people who enjoy shooting – clay pigeon shooting in particular. It's actually quite a vibrant scene. Everyone knows everyone else, so word soon got around that we'd opened a shop here in Bristol.

"There is a lot of work involved in opening a gun shop – you need all the right licences and the security has to be good of course, but now we're all set up, I think we'll do well."

Having dad on hand to offer advice makes a big difference to Dan's fledgling business – and customers are able to get expert advice from the world champion, with John offering coaching sessions from £50 a time.

Just a half-hour drive out into the Mendips, John is developing a clay pigeon range in a farmer's field.

"You have to find somewhere remote to do this," he explains, as he opens the gate to the field. "You don't want to disturb any neighbours with the sound of the shotgun, but you also don't want anybody getting hit by bits of clay. This place is perfect." Keen to show me why clay pigeon shooting is enjoying such a rise in popularity, John offers to give me a lesson.

There is something a little intimidating about holding a shotgun for the first time – but John is quick to put me at my ease.

"Keep your eyes looking straight down the barrel and over the sight," he says. "We'll start with an easy shot – one that is moving towards you. This is the kind of thing you might experience at a corporate shoot – all fairly easy, but lots of fun."

And John should know – he only lifted a shotgun for the first time himself at the age of 40 when he attended a corporate bonding day that involved a clay pigeon shoot.

"The trouble is I've always been competitive," he says. "So I didn't just go along and have a bit of fun, I wanted to be the best on the day, so I took some shooting lessons in the weeks before.

"Of course, when the day came, I was a much better shot than anyone else. But by that point I was hooked. So I kept up my coaching sessions, and here I am 18 years on, a world champion. It just shows you – you're never too old to start."

With that John presses the button on his remote control, and the black disc of the clay pigeon spins Frisby-like through the air. I lift the gun and pull the trigger. I'm not too surprised as I watch the shot fire wide, and the "pigeon" lives to see another day.

"No, no, you have to follow the arc of the clay and move the shotgun as it moves," John explains, as he demonstrates the smooth arcing action. "Don't rush yourself into pulling the trigger."

Sure enough, my second shot cracks through the air and obliterates the disc. Nobody is more surprised than me, as I lift the butt of the gun away from my shoulder, and double-take towards the space in the sky where I had expected to see the "clay" descending. Another successful shot allows me to prove to myself that it wasn't a fluke.

But then John makes everything a little trickier – we move around to the other side of the field, so that rather than firing toward us, the clays are arcing across our field of vision.

"It makes it a bit trickier doesn't it?" John chuckles, as I recoil from the first miss with a puzzled glare. But the champ is on hand to coach me in the correct techniques.

"I enjoy the coaching," John says, as he packs the shotgun back in his car at the end of the session. "I get a great kick out of helping somebody who enjoys shooting to improve."