We were out with a lovely fourball from Singapore yesterday and everything was going swimmingly. Once we had got to understand the subtle nuances of our differing nations’ slants on humour, that is. I was caddying for bubbly June Yeo who was playing with her friend Sabrina. They were in great spirits and whacked a couple of fine drives up the first. We set up the fairway and they were chatting and laughing happily away at which point I turned round and said in my sternest voice ‘No laughing on the golf course please’. There was that few seconds of incredulity while Sabrina’s face went dead solemn. She cowered momentarily and looked, let’s say, sheepish and naughty. I smiled and she said to June ‘He’s joking isn’t he’ and we had a wee laugh.
However she almost got her own back on the 12th. The group had got dispersed over the fairway and I was up at the green advising June on a chip shot while Sabrina hit in from about a hundred metres. I just heard a ‘watch out’ and I looked up and saw a yellow golf ball (Sabrina’s) travelling with severe kinetic energy towards my head. I ducked with my speediest reactions and it just missed me. And I’m not sure if that was a bad shot or not.