After a 100% incorrect forecast yesterday (Rain confidently promised-sun arrived) Huttonian faced with more gloomy prognostications opted for golf at Duns after a long lay off because of genuinely bad conditions organised by the BBCWC. Leaving the house it was all beakerfulls of the warm south, Zephry breezes, sunlight peeping through lightening clouds. Duns was different- a bucketful of the damp West-not actually raining as far as one could see through clammy mist but a feel that rain was on its way.
Golf was problematical. Usually a single player, with 'no standing' a sort of non person has the opportunity for seamless progress by playing the first hole and then cutting across to the 11th playing the last eight to complete a leisurely 9 holes. Not to day-the geriatic foursome in cold pursuit of the cardiac three was effectively gumming up the first nine. I had great hopes that the two ball who beat me to the first tee would also choose this route thus clearing my way from the 11th on. And I have to say I was looking forward to my escape eleventh wards as these two took 25 minutes to play the first hole-select a club put it back, select another, ditto. Discuss last nights tellie whilst selecting the first club again; gentle roll the ball a few yards greenwards. Start the whole process over again with the second shot-move the debate on to the prospects for the Scottish economy, fumble for a cigarette, lighter doesn't work, matches damp. Play second shot-and so the long day wore on. Until after four putts each they moved off the first green-horrors heading for the 11th tee. I was between the proverbial large stone and the other thing.
I killed some time with Lad One and Lad Two-the junior greenkeepers deputising for the Gnarled Old Countryman (GOC) still enjoying a (very) long weekend or just starting on one. Rain by 9.45 said one. Make that 9.40 said the other-youse better get past those two (unfair description deleted) or you will get soaked. I couldn't. People don't let single players past them around here. In the end driven to distraction by the slow earth moving proceedings in front of me I cut out two holes, got in front of the tortoise two and finished my round in a high state of dudgeon having missed out on two of my favourite holes. After a few soothing phone calls from the comfort of my car- I was aware of steady rain. A glance at the watch: 9.42-just after. I thought of the two... (unworthy epithet repressed) still well out on the course-no leaves on trees-no shelter-they were dressed for winter-furry fleeces easily soaked. Oh dear!
I know that we should always forgive our tormentors. Closure. Move on. I thought of the tiresome couple getting wetter and wetter. I smiled-with pity? No. With satisfaction? You bet. Sorry Archbishop Tutu.
It is lovely back in Hutton. No hint of rain. And yes BBCWC 'Well done'.
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