After the angry sky of Guy Fawkes night and with the BBC Blether people forecasting terrifyingly strong winds it inevitably turned out a glorious Autumn day. So I was not surprised to find the car park at Duns Golf Club (MPBUI) sheltering a number of vehicles and air was aloud with the cries of cheerful golfers anticipating a fun round. Even the Gnarled Old Greenkeeper (GOG) looked less lugubrious than his wont and was down to one pullover and no green body armour. My partner was slightly late and I was worried that we would be held up not only by the cardiac three and the other usual early starters (We are talking 8am here) but by the others massesof would be players swarming all over the car park assembling their remote control trolleys, cocktail cabinets, MP1 players and all the other hi tech equipment necessary for 21st Century golf.
But they had all melted away. The cars were there, the trolleys were standing around reproachfully, unstubbed cigarettes smoldering on the tarmac. But humans gone. They must have all gone inside the club house. Why? A Masonic meting? A few hands of bridge? An epidemic of diarrhoea? We may never know, or care. The result was good: an unhurried round, good golf and an empty club house when we returned for our bacon butty and coffee. Cars still in car park but their owners were still invisible.
The GOG was still there. Finishing his butty, fourth cup of coffee and contemplating his lunch. AS far as he was concerned it was much too nice a day to go out on the course. Nice work.
If you can get it.
