the kilted caddie is still unwell

Unfortunately I have been indisposed for nearly two weeks now as a result of the aforementioned Falkand cricket match accident and resulting injury. So you may ask what do I get up to? And that indeed is a very good question. Let’s say not very much. I do have a wee study in our flat and it looks onto our lovely garden and I, like the new children’s laureate, gain much inspiration from gazing thereon. It’s really easy but vital creative work. I started doing this in primary school, P2 I think, and can even remember the teacher, Miss Clay, asking ‘what do you think about when you look out of the window?’ And I’m damned if I was able to answer. Still can’t. Mind you it was probably the most valuable thing I learned to do at school.

I have written my column for HK Golf Monthly and the editor likes it, which is always a very good thing. I have discovered audiobooks, been to Edinburgh to celebrate getting our planning permission for the wee Murrayfield venture, got mercilessly drunk on the back of it and somehow hoofed an antique armchair back from a Morningside charity shop. However becoming unbalanced on the bus station escalator I very nearly had an embarrassing end and being done over by a Parker Knoll. Won a ton of money at Ascot when Stradivarius and Shui Feng came in. I have now, gladly, removed three letters from the title of my present work in progress book, which becomes ‘Diary of a successful gambler’, as my bet bank has suddenly moved into very healthy territory.  And I have cut the grass, dead headed the roses and perfected my wren whistle.

I had the stark realization that my flat in St Andrews is in a very precarious position indeed. For if I come out the front door and walk left for sixty seconds I come to the Whey Pat pub, whereas if I walk right for sixty seconds I come to a Ladbrokes betting shop. There are no other distractions in between. Friends have suggested I move to a safer home or go straight forward. Both options are very dangerous. If I go straight forward I am very likely to be knocked over on the busiest road in St Andrews. My only option in flitting is to go back to Edinburgh to my flat there but it is unfortunately sixty seconds from the Canny Mans pub and a William Hill’s establishment. The only other realistic solution is to get barred from the Whey Pat and Canny Mans’ pubs. However I have already done that.

Matt, my very decent and caring caddiemaster, did manage to get me a buggy job at the weekend. However he didn’t know how dangerous a job it would turn out to be. My man Joe hit his ball into the burn in front of the 15th. I went down the wet bank and put my foot on a stone to cross the water. It was as slippery as ice and I lost my balance and was heading towards the startled looking ducks three feet below, when luckily Joe grabbed me and prevented a rather ungracious fall.

As you can see my life is a tad out of balance but far from dull.

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