The nice young man
from the BBC Weather Centre with the sharp suit promised Eastern Scotland a dry start to the day. Huttonian was consequently on the first tee of the Duns Golf Course at 7.20 AM -the first moment that it was possible to see the green, 400 yards away, in the fast receding gloom. It was a start to the day. It was dry as advertised. Smart suit could breakfast with aneasy conscience ofa job well done.
The Gnarled Old Greenkeeper emerged from his lair parking the golf carts beside the tee. 'Nice day for it' he commented with the knowledge of a Dinger, born and bred and used to the vagaries of the local weather. 'Dry one' he said looking towards a rapidly advancing black cloud no smaller than a Ecuadorian Fruit Bat. 'Enjoy your round' he commanded climbing into his thickest oilskins, 'No need for your brolly the day', he added, checking the windscreen wipers of the No 1 Tractor-the one with the bullet proof glass and the well stocked cocktail cabinet.
I walked in through the pouring rain from the sixth. My umbrella lay safe and snug in the boot of my distant cartogether with the waterproof jacket and smart all wearther over trousers. As I dripped along the verdant wetlands aka 18th fairway I was overtaken by the GOG going about his business in his golfmobile, battened down to the hatches, -his eyes failed to meet mine -uneasy conscience? No, he was examining the bottom of an empty tumbler. I sloshed my way home and as I did so I heard the glug glug of a whisky bottle to send me on my way rejoicing.
A wonderful thing; local knowledge.