Sunday, April 03, 2005

I had planned to play golf yesterday. On a day off I actually rose from my cot at 8.30am in order to facilitate the day in hand. The last time I raised a metal stick to a ball was at a golf course near Agnes Water in Queensland Australia. For the equivalent of £5 my friends and I got half an hour at a driving range, a loan of a set of clubs and trolley, a whole bunch of new balls to waste away, a round of nine holes - not your pitch and putt types either, but par 3, 4 and 5 thingys, a putting competition, and it was all rounded off with a sausage sizzle; as many as I could eat. The course was well kept, the greens were lush, the sun shined continuously and kangaroos gathered as disinterested spectators; they like the well-kept grass. Beer was sold in the clubhouse and consumed en route from one hole to the next.

I suppose I haven't played at a proper golf course in Britain so it seems unjust to complain. But one difference is definitely the weather. In anger God, or whatever other force, cast down water from the sky and used areas of differing air pressure to drive the contents of the atmosphere across the land at a faster speed than is comfortable on a golf course. So day cancelled. But in preparation I had a taste of the difference between the two cultures approach to golf. I was told I should where trousers and a collar or smart jumper. "You've got to keep out the riff-raff" my friend Rob informed me. The round would cost £15, clubs and shoes had to be provided by my friend (they would have no doubt cost more) and I would have to visit a golf shop to purchase balls. Not the greatest encouragement for potential new golfers. And I was only able to go because I was going with a member. Not such a restriction in Oz.

Here are some pictures of a snake eating a kangaroo. Possibly a potential golf fan lost.

Meanwhile I actually got an email from someone who has stumbled onto this site. Only the third since October 2002. The informant informed me (for that is what informants do) that an animated being named Avery Ant has put himself forward for Pope. Although the animator has already taken it upon himself to draw the Pontiff's tall hat - which probably won't go down well with the Vatican. If I was running for Mayor I probably wouldn't do too well if meeting and greeting with the Mayoral sash already festooned across my chest. Good luck to him I say. Maybe he'll let his flock wear condoms.

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