Landscape with Faffers Huttonian had forgotten that it was Monday when standing on the first tee this morning. Mournes misty; sun hot; wind none. 7.45 am. Not another golfer in sight. Bliss. On stilts.

But it was Monday and as I crested the rise to the first green I saw the second fairway was as crowded as a G20 demo in EC1. An army of apparent faffers were moving slowly down the fairway, poking the soil with sticks and filling holes with bits of turf and sand. Not faffers as in hackers from Belfast, but faffers as in retreaded green keepers retained solely for Monday morning duties; the divot fillers.
, the hacked sod replacers, the turf fairies of the Anneseley Course (MPBUI)Fit only for a half day's work, on the 19th hole of their lives, they painfully slowly progress green wards, stopping every few seconds to fill in the collateral damage left by hordes of week end trippers 'Golfers' an inaccurate description of that species of sub human, homo faffians, the £13 green fee Genghis Khant-hit-a-ball-to save-my-life polluter who does more damage in a round of 'golf' than global warming ever managed in a decade.

I was stuck behind their resolutely collectively turned backs; shouting 'fore' pointless given the lack of a one hearing aid amongst the 12 of them. Nothing for it but to risk a drive over their heads, a mad dash past and a quick 8 iron to the green. A wonderful birdie as it happens but not one of the twelve noticed this unusual feat. The youngest, about three score years and a couple of rounds more, glanced up as I passed-grimaced at me,squinted at the cloudless light blue hazy sky, grunted at my greeting and apology and pronounced

'Looks like rain' ('hopefully' he meant)

I asked about the pock marked fairways and commiserated with the task of repairing tbe ravages of Huns who would rather die than be caught replacing their divots

'Thems good for us' he said.' No damage to repair, no pay cheque'

I carefully replaced any divots I inflicted as I went on my way; and as I did so my main emotion was not of satisfaction of a crisp 5 iron, well struck. spinning back towards the pin but a slight feeling of

guilt.

In a recession leave your divots where they lie.

You know it makes good economic sense.

Mr Darling

Labels: Golf, Newcastle, Norn Iron, Royal County Down

  ¶ 10:27 AM