Just as we were enjoying pictures of heavy rain in southern parts, the BBC Blether Centre decided to export the remaining heat wave to the Merse killing of haar, dreich and drizzle en route. So it may have been a mistake to play golf at Duns (MPBUI) at 7.20 am. It was sweltering hot.22C in Duns equates to 40 or so in Lunnon. Not a breath of wind, high humidity and flies. Large black buzzing b*****s (well actually I can't vouch for their sexuality) who greet you at the first tee and then stick with you (quite literally on sweaty bits) until you can escape to your car. Its like being at Angels One Five, eyes craned back wards for Biggles and Jerry and an incessant whine of Hurricane/Spitfire engine in both ears. To add to this irritant for half the round you are blinded by the still low hazy sun which ensures that some of your shots are found only by guesswork and many aren't. I was carrying so many clubs in my 'summer bag' (Trolleys are for wimps) that I left my bottle of water behind and didn't fancy a swig from the burn at the short 15th as I wasn't sure how long the dog turds had been maturing upstream.
Anyhow I had the course to myself apart from a couple of returning single players who must have started off at about 4-30am -not a bad move in the climatic circumstances. Just as I was finishing the cardiac four were setting out in El Alamein desert shorts, army surplus khaki shirts and Aussie out back slouch hats. Their remote controlled trolleys were loaded with enough water bottles to ruin a Scottish drinks party-a picnic rug indicated a short break in some sylvan glade at about half way.
Home by 9am. Its been a long day already.
