Picture the scene. Huttonian on the first tee. New Ball. Point selected 240 yards down glistening green fairway. Course empty. Not an aggressive hen in sight. Bliss. A split second later a howling draft and horizontal rain. Mountains gone-target point disappeared behind curtain of moisture. Run for it. Lost car keys-wrong pocket-soaked and shopping yet to do. Umbrella even the special blow through one quite useless in these conditions. Pavements blocked by wet people hurrying head down-collisions inevitable-muttered apologies and angry snarls. Surprising sight of an elderly lady zooming along on her zimmer frame, milking the wind, overtaking most of the traffic but she will never make it home against such a tempest. One important mission: replace the £3.75 wall clock destined for the grandson's room. It is to encourage him not to leave his bed before 6-30 am. But it lost 3 hours every 185 minutes so he dashed out thinking he had overslept (It was showing 10-30 having been set at 10-15 the night before) No fuss over exchange-not even mutterings of 'what can you expect for £3.75?' Soaked again en route to far parked car.
Home. No prospect of golf. Grandson to entertain with limited oppurtunities to amuse him in the off season. Long day ahead.
Test clock. This one loses 180 minutes every 181. Must return it. What do you expect for £3.75 and at least the model is consistent and will presumably be right now and then. But it is pussing down. Rewind to reel one.
'Come back Mr Fish- all is forgiven' I am tempted to say. But the words stick in my throat