It is a somewhat chastened David who sits here this afternoon writing to you. I went north brimming with confidence and intent to win our annual family golf competition, but alas, it was not to be. Inexplicably I decided to take a 3 iron on the first. The resulting divot almost went further than the ball and it was a stroke that set the tone for the rest of the round. By the time I got to the 17th it was almost inevitable that my drive soared over the Old Course hotel and out of bounds and that whilst my provisional found the fairway the next three strokes were all shanked into the rough short of the green. I limped home with 24 points and comfortably last. I was eased into the hideous Yellow Corduroy Jacket that the loser is obliged to wear and settled into an R&A club G&T, a fine lunch upstairs, quite a few bottles of wine and a large kummel in the Big Room at which point Sophie arrived to drive us home and all I recall of that journey is waving a bunch of sweet peas out of the car window and trying to pinch the bottom of a cyclist we were edging past at the time.
It was not becoming behaviour for a member of the Royal and Ancient Golf Club of St Andrews really. Talking of which, that reminds me, I did have a very good excuse for my poor showing on the golf course. I had an interrupted sleep the night before. Early to bed of course ahead of the big day I was awoken at 3.15am by the sound of a heavy music beat and strident singing from a bunch of youngsters in the garden of the house next door. “Nice group of kids” we had thought having spotted them earlier frolicking on the beach. One of the boys – whose parents we know and who own the house - went to Radley and the rest of them we imagined were old school or University friends.
It was actually comical how loud they were being. One of these days I might play you the video we took of them. But if I was feeling magnanimous in any case when I strolled over to the window to see what was going on, my mood lightened further as I perused the view though a gap in the curtains. There were three girls dancing on the garden table illuminated by a dark red light and the occasional streak of white from the nearby lighthouse. I think they must have lost a bet playing strip poker or some such game because clothes were being dispensed with despite the chill of the early morning hours and a stiff wind blowing in from the North Seas. Well they carried on out there, those three girls and five boys, with very little respite in the decibels, until 5.30am at which point I think I managed to get a couple of hours sleep before heading up to St Andrews for our tee off time on the Old Course. So you see…..reasonable excuse eh?
Incidentally, when we told our second daughter Jimmy, who arrived the next day about the incident, she praised us for our equanimity in not telling them off for their rowdy behaviour. We had assumed it would be a one off and had even helped them the following day, with the loan of a ladder, as they cleaned up the mess caused by half a dozen eggs which had been thrown at the front of their house by some less indulgent neighbours than us, but lo and behold, 2.00am on Jimmy’s first night, it all kicked off again.
Surprise surprise, within minutes Jimmy was in our room barking at us to get down there and tell them to shut up. Sophie is best at these things so off she went and shortly afterwards all was peaceful. She came back to bed chuckling. It had taken a lot of yelling on her part standing at the low dividing wall between our two small patches of garden to attract their attention, but eventually one of the girls had heard her above the racket and sheepishly approached. Sophie told me she hadn’t held back in explaining how utterly selfish and unacceptable their behaviour was. The girl, and we are talking about 21 year olds here, had apologised profusely and turned back to her friends calling to them in the primest St Mary’s Calne accent “Guys, guys, we’ve got to turn the music off and pipe down. We’ve been properly told off.” 21 or 12??!
Incidentally, although I have told you before, Elie is the most wonderful place…here is the view from the other window in our bedroom of the house we rent….it’s not quite as exciting as the one looking down on the next door neighbours garden at 3.15am, but it’s all that would get through your security settings I expect…..
No comments:
Post a Comment