Golf, the great relaxant
It is wrong to hate. But today I felt something akin to that unworthy emotion when I was stuck behind two very large, very slow moving and very loquacious women golfers. The sun was warm, the rain had stopped,the wind had dropped and the Mournes were beaming benignly. I was moving fast, the course to myself until these two blobs of humanity filled the horizon as I had three holes to play. Chat, chat, chat. Take out the pin, putt, miss, putt again. Put back pin. Think about leaving green. Change mind. Take out pin, practice putt, miss, miss and miss again. Chat, Leave green. Oops forgot trolley was in front of green; retrieve it very very slowly. Stop, chat. Move to next tee.
Repeat process on next two holes. Huttonian fuming and contemplating harrassing fire with five iron. Decide against in interests of honouring peace process and new Ulster assembly. At last they prepare to leave last green. 5 farewell putts, three final exchanges of hot gossip,look over shoulder, see irrascible Huttonian leaning heavily on 5 iron and steaming. Giggle; fat busts quivering with barely suppressed mirth. Unpack trolley on green, find cigarettes, light them using seven matches, and very very very slowly head off to their clubhouse.
Getting into my car one of the mountainous maids greets me like a long lost rich uncle. 'Sorry if we held you up a bit out there....such a lovely day and it seemed such a pity to hurry. I am sure you didn't mind. Being on holiday, and all.'
What could I say? Conventional politenesses. Drive home. Bite lip, bleed slightly
Get out childrens plasticine. Make two blobs. Stick a fork into the larger, apologetic one.