I dropped into the golf club this week for a spot of lunch. Food was good, company too but my visit was somewhat spoiled by a cursory glance at the noticeboard as I departed. There on the winter league pairs sheet were the names ' Douglas & Ferguson', the Douglas referred to being the very same Keith Douglas whom I partnered in last season's event and carried to runners-up position. This was the first I'd heard that I'd been dropped, we'd had every intention of playing together again this season.
I have to say it comes to a pretty pass when the person you've played golf with every weekend for the entire winter league season, four months all told, sacks you without a word and chooses someone else to partner instead. I shouldn't be surprised, he has so little class, nevertheless it was somewhat chastening to learn of my dismissal through the backdoor rather than face to face. Well up yours Douglas, I hope your assault on this year's trophy falters spectacularly and you sink without trace you witless weasel. Good luck with your poisoned chalice Ferguson, you'll be needing a psychiatrist come Springtime I promise you.
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