Wednesday, August 16, 2006

The Italian Job

My golfing excursion took me to Port Severn, only to be told by the people at the Information Centre that I didn't really want to go there, a better course was in Coldwater. So it was off to Bonaire Golf.

I found myself stuck behind a slow 3-some with no hint of playing through, and another 3-some on my tail, I sociably formed a four with 3 Italian men with thinning and greying hair. Meet Mario, Marcello and Wally.

At the 6th hole, a 150-yard par 3, it was decided that anyone not making the green had to (how to frame this delicately?) perform a certain sex act upon the others. Mercifully, this declaration was modified to simply clearing the water hazard after Wally failed to meet the requirement.

This is why I would rather golf by myself than join up with strangers. They were nice enough; we're just from different worlds. For the record, I cleared the water hazard (by a large margin) and finished the hole with a quality putt.

After supper, I helped the next-door neighbour patch the crack in his driveway. He rewarded my time and effort with beer and golf balls. Everybody wins.

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