Two different takes on the same subject...
Posts
Toffs at the Top
1 day ago
Monday, August 10, 2009
Sunday, August 09, 2009
Ruled by savages and the law of ‘My Way’
This is an extract from Peter Hitchens' Mail On Sunday column (which can be read in its entirety here).
It is sad. It is true. French people often ask us why we moved to France, assuming it was for the weather, or cheap wine. This is the real reason:
"The savages are on the loose. The well-behaved, the restrained and the reasonable are in retreat. A woman who complained about rowdy teenagers in a Leeds cinema was followed to a nearby restaurant and horribly attacked.
Bleach was poured over her, which may have damaged her eyesight. The woman was being punished under the new legal code of Britain, which is the law of fear and strength and ‘My Way’. It could have been any of us. Such places exist in most towns and cities and so do groups of noisy youths who think it is their absolute right to behave as they wish.
Then there are the arrogant cyclists, so smug about their carbon footprints that they believe they can ride on pavements and footpaths and shoot through red lights and that the law does not apply to them.
And there are the millions of despicable maniacs who text and phone while driving cars, many of whom will one day stand weeping over the broken body of the person they are destined to kill or maim, whimpering ‘I didn’t mean to’. Oh, yes, you did. You knew, and you didn’t care.
Try to reprove any of them and you are immediately the one in the wrong. Their brows cloud with righteous fury. They begin with the assumption that it is you who are at fault. The comparatively polite ones snarl, ‘Don’t you have anything better to do?’, ‘Get a life’, or ‘What business is it of yours?’
The rest use the kind of words popularised on the airwaves by David Cameron and Jonathan Ross. Or, increasingly, they attack you with confident spite, sure that nothing will happen to them."
It is sad. It is true. French people often ask us why we moved to France, assuming it was for the weather, or cheap wine. This is the real reason:
"The savages are on the loose. The well-behaved, the restrained and the reasonable are in retreat. A woman who complained about rowdy teenagers in a Leeds cinema was followed to a nearby restaurant and horribly attacked.
Bleach was poured over her, which may have damaged her eyesight. The woman was being punished under the new legal code of Britain, which is the law of fear and strength and ‘My Way’. It could have been any of us. Such places exist in most towns and cities and so do groups of noisy youths who think it is their absolute right to behave as they wish.
Then there are the arrogant cyclists, so smug about their carbon footprints that they believe they can ride on pavements and footpaths and shoot through red lights and that the law does not apply to them.
And there are the millions of despicable maniacs who text and phone while driving cars, many of whom will one day stand weeping over the broken body of the person they are destined to kill or maim, whimpering ‘I didn’t mean to’. Oh, yes, you did. You knew, and you didn’t care.
Try to reprove any of them and you are immediately the one in the wrong. Their brows cloud with righteous fury. They begin with the assumption that it is you who are at fault. The comparatively polite ones snarl, ‘Don’t you have anything better to do?’, ‘Get a life’, or ‘What business is it of yours?’
The rest use the kind of words popularised on the airwaves by David Cameron and Jonathan Ross. Or, increasingly, they attack you with confident spite, sure that nothing will happen to them."
Saturday, August 08, 2009
Villa With Pool For Sale in South of France (near Nimes)
Detached south facing private villa with pool, fully renovated to exceptionally high standard. Quiet village location with good amenities within walking distance, 20 minutes to Nimes, 10 mins to A9. Ready to move into with absolutely nothing to do.
Entrance leads into light and airy very spacious open plan sitting room with south facing patio doors, leading out onto sunny terrace and garden. Ample space for a dining area. Insert fireplace.
Newly renovated high quality fully fitted Leicht kitchen with island work surface and dining area. Miele appliances including multifunction oven, steam oven, espresso machine, warming drawer. Large rectangular induction hob plus domino gas wok attachment. Patio doors leading on to terrace and garden.
Utility room with floor to ceiling cupboards, sink and plumbed for washing machine. Very spacious.
Downstairs cloakroom.
First floor includes very spacious light master bedroom, with en suite. Triple fitted wardobes plus 2 further double fitted wardrobes. Exceptionally large walk in shower, italian fittings. Patio doors leading out on to sunny terrace and also into large (6 x 4) veranda room which is used as a 2nd sitting room.
Three further double bedrooms, one of which has patio doors, leading out on to terrace.
Family bathroom, with Porcelenosa fittings.
Separate studio, with own en suite shower room (4 x 3) ideal for guests.
Large south facing pool, surrounded by terrace, including large covered terrace area, extensive ambient lighting.
Low maintenance south facing garden with automatic watering system for beds and lawn.
Huge north facing terrace, ideal for al fresco eating in the height of summer.
Ample parking for 5/6 cars, plus double garage.
Total privacy, very quiet and tranquil area.
Brand new gas central heating system. Water softener.
Renovated to very high standard and would be ready to move into immediately.
Original pictures here, or slide show below
Entrance leads into light and airy very spacious open plan sitting room with south facing patio doors, leading out onto sunny terrace and garden. Ample space for a dining area. Insert fireplace.
Newly renovated high quality fully fitted Leicht kitchen with island work surface and dining area. Miele appliances including multifunction oven, steam oven, espresso machine, warming drawer. Large rectangular induction hob plus domino gas wok attachment. Patio doors leading on to terrace and garden.
Utility room with floor to ceiling cupboards, sink and plumbed for washing machine. Very spacious.
Downstairs cloakroom.
First floor includes very spacious light master bedroom, with en suite. Triple fitted wardobes plus 2 further double fitted wardrobes. Exceptionally large walk in shower, italian fittings. Patio doors leading out on to sunny terrace and also into large (6 x 4) veranda room which is used as a 2nd sitting room.
Three further double bedrooms, one of which has patio doors, leading out on to terrace.
Family bathroom, with Porcelenosa fittings.
Separate studio, with own en suite shower room (4 x 3) ideal for guests.
Large south facing pool, surrounded by terrace, including large covered terrace area, extensive ambient lighting.
Low maintenance south facing garden with automatic watering system for beds and lawn.
Huge north facing terrace, ideal for al fresco eating in the height of summer.
Ample parking for 5/6 cars, plus double garage.
Total privacy, very quiet and tranquil area.
Brand new gas central heating system. Water softener.
Renovated to very high standard and would be ready to move into immediately.
Original pictures here, or slide show below
The Farting Joke
I was in the pub yesterday when I suddenly realized I desperately needed to fart. The music was really, really loud, so I timed my farts with the beat.
After a couple of songs, I started to feel better. I finished my pint and noticed that everybody was staring at me.
Then I suddenly remembered that I was listening to my iPod.
Tuesday, June 09, 2009
God Vs Tiger
God meets the world’s greatest golfers as they enter heaven.
God asks Arnie first: ‘What do you believe?’
Arnie thinks long and hard, looks God in the eye, and says, ‘I believe
in hard work, and in staying true to family and friends. I believe in
giving. I was lucky, but I always tried to do right by my fans.’
God can’t help but see the essential goodness of Palmer, and offers him a
seat to his left.
Then God turns to Nicklaus and says, ‘What do you believe?’
Jack says ‘I believe passion, discipline, courage and honor are the
fundamentals Of life. I, too, have been lucky, but win or lose, I’ve
always tried to be a true sportsman, both on and off the playing fields.”
God is greatly moved by Jack’s high-pitched eloquence, and he offers him a
seat to his right.
Finally, God turns to Woods: ‘And you, Tiger, what do you believe?’
Tiger replies, ‘I believe you’re in my seat.’
God asks Arnie first: ‘What do you believe?’
Arnie thinks long and hard, looks God in the eye, and says, ‘I believe
in hard work, and in staying true to family and friends. I believe in
giving. I was lucky, but I always tried to do right by my fans.’
God can’t help but see the essential goodness of Palmer, and offers him a
seat to his left.
Then God turns to Nicklaus and says, ‘What do you believe?’
Jack says ‘I believe passion, discipline, courage and honor are the
fundamentals Of life. I, too, have been lucky, but win or lose, I’ve
always tried to be a true sportsman, both on and off the playing fields.”
God is greatly moved by Jack’s high-pitched eloquence, and he offers him a
seat to his right.
Finally, God turns to Woods: ‘And you, Tiger, what do you believe?’
Tiger replies, ‘I believe you’re in my seat.’
Saturday, May 23, 2009
tumblr
I have been experimenting with tumblr recently as a means of merging my blog entires and Twitter feed. It also provides an easy means of posting quick entries, links, video and pictures via Web or iPhone client.
I am hoping that my tumblelog will provide a more complete picture of my activities whenever there is a lull in my blogging, but given that a lot of my Twitter posts are a bit on the techie or "professional" side, I am not sure how that stream will sit with my blog entries, which are usually more personal.
We shall see.
For now, please visit and bookmark http://blog.bobwalder.com
This is worth bookmarking permanently, since if I decide at a later date to revert completely to Blogger (or any other blogging platform) that address will continue to point to my new blog.
I will probably continue to duplicate blog entries here for the time being, too, but please give my tumblelog a try.
For those of you who like to follow Harry's adventures in the Twitterverse, he also has a tumblelog at http://harrywinston.tumblr.com
I am hoping that my tumblelog will provide a more complete picture of my activities whenever there is a lull in my blogging, but given that a lot of my Twitter posts are a bit on the techie or "professional" side, I am not sure how that stream will sit with my blog entries, which are usually more personal.
We shall see.
For now, please visit and bookmark http://blog.bobwalder.com
This is worth bookmarking permanently, since if I decide at a later date to revert completely to Blogger (or any other blogging platform) that address will continue to point to my new blog.
I will probably continue to duplicate blog entries here for the time being, too, but please give my tumblelog a try.
For those of you who like to follow Harry's adventures in the Twitterverse, he also has a tumblelog at http://harrywinston.tumblr.com
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Crazy Like Fox
As a hard core sci-fi fan and lover of the Terminator franchise I have been quite enjoying the last two seasons of Terminator: The Sarah Connor Chronicles on Fox.
This series benefitted from some great writing and characterisation, and took the story and characters in directions we were never going to see in a 90-120 minute feature film. Season 2 ended with a real cliffhanger which whetted the appetite for what was to come. A lot of loose ends were tied up in that final episode to give you that "ahhhhhhhh!" moment and leave you realising you were about to be introduced to the most important part of the story arc.
And then Fox cancelled it!
Apparently it wasn't getting the ratings, and I can't say I am surprised. I have never understood this stupid American idea that you can just hack a series into two halves and have 2-3 months hiatus between them.
Couple this with the fact that the episodes were wandering a bit mid-season (setting up a bunch of those loose ends I mentioned) and even die-hard fans were struggling to keep up once the series resumed. New viewers must have been wondering "WTF?" and probably never bothered tuning in again after watching one episode.
Given this stupid scheduling snafu, and the wonderful story arc teaser, Fox really needed to give this one another chance.
But this is not the main reason. After the inevitable publicity the new movie is going to generate next month, wouldn't you think new viewers would come flocking to the third season of TSCC? And in being introduced to this new story arc, would want to buy the DVD sets for the first two seasons? In short, following the release of the movie, wouldn't you think the TV series would become a sure fire money spinner?
Or at least, if you were a TV executive, wouldn't you want to give it one more season and find out?
I sincerely hope someone else sees the potential in this series and Fox will sell off the rights. But I am also left wondering if, BECAUSE of the new movie (and potential story arc conflicts), there is something else in store?
This series benefitted from some great writing and characterisation, and took the story and characters in directions we were never going to see in a 90-120 minute feature film. Season 2 ended with a real cliffhanger which whetted the appetite for what was to come. A lot of loose ends were tied up in that final episode to give you that "ahhhhhhhh!" moment and leave you realising you were about to be introduced to the most important part of the story arc.
And then Fox cancelled it!
Apparently it wasn't getting the ratings, and I can't say I am surprised. I have never understood this stupid American idea that you can just hack a series into two halves and have 2-3 months hiatus between them.
Couple this with the fact that the episodes were wandering a bit mid-season (setting up a bunch of those loose ends I mentioned) and even die-hard fans were struggling to keep up once the series resumed. New viewers must have been wondering "WTF?" and probably never bothered tuning in again after watching one episode.
Given this stupid scheduling snafu, and the wonderful story arc teaser, Fox really needed to give this one another chance.
But this is not the main reason. After the inevitable publicity the new movie is going to generate next month, wouldn't you think new viewers would come flocking to the third season of TSCC? And in being introduced to this new story arc, would want to buy the DVD sets for the first two seasons? In short, following the release of the movie, wouldn't you think the TV series would become a sure fire money spinner?
Or at least, if you were a TV executive, wouldn't you want to give it one more season and find out?
I sincerely hope someone else sees the potential in this series and Fox will sell off the rights. But I am also left wondering if, BECAUSE of the new movie (and potential story arc conflicts), there is something else in store?
Monday, May 18, 2009
Breaking 90
Yesterday was competition day, sponsored by des Halles de Nimes which is where you go to buy all the best grub in Nimes. This is the reason there is such a good turnout, methinks, since the general opinion is that if the proprietors of les Halles are providing the grub, it should be a good nosh-up afterwards.
I am partnered with a very nice lady called Isabelle, and a complete arse-hole who I shall refer to only as J. You know he is going to be an arse-hole when he turns up late for tee-off, spends ages talking to his "caddy" (oh yes....that's another dead giveaway, of course! Nearly forgot about that one....), rolls and lights a ciggy, and generally dicks about while we watch the next party approach down the previous fairway (this is a shot-gun tee-off) and Isabelle and I get more and more anxious.
Isabelle, suggests I tee off first since J is not ready, and so I do. As I leave the first tee, he looks at me sternly (he's probably half my age!) and states that "Really the honour is with me, you know" - this because, despite the fact he was dicking around and not ready to play, he has a handicap which is 0.2 lower than mine.
Like I said, an arse-hole - I am sure you agree.
I tell him "Well, you weren't ready" and I walk off.
J goes on to scale new heights of arse-hole-ness as we score the first hole. Isabelle is keeping my score card, and I shoot a par.
"I thought you shot 6" says J.
"Huh?" says I.
"Yes", he says, "I thought you missed a shot in the trees over there?"
Well, if I HAD missed a shot, arse-hole, that would have made it a 5, not 6, wouldn't it? And since I didn't miss a shot, then no, it's still a 4. We go through my shots carefully, one by one, until he grudgingly admits that perhaps it was a par after all, as the party following us gets closer and closer.
On the next hole, a par 3, I shoot pin-high just left of the green, while he misses miles to the right. My second shot is a delicate chip to within 6 feet of the pin, while his just about crawls onto the green. My third shot is in the hole, while he takes three putts to sink it.
As we walk off the green, he says "So that was a 4 for you then?"
"No, it was a par"
"Really?"
We go through my shots carefully one by one until J - the person who is not even supposed to be keeping MY score, remember - grudgingly admits that both Isabelle and I can, indeed, count up to 3.
I have had enough. This constant sniping will sap my confidence in no time so I take him to one side and suggest it is not his place to keep my score, and if he insists on doing it, then he should stop adding on shots as he sees fit. He agrees.
On the next hole, a par 4, he asks cheerfully if I got a par, as we leave the green?
"No, it was a bogey", I reply. That's better...
We complete the par 3 15th without incident, and he has the honour as we wait to tee off on the 16th, a severe par 4 dog-leg. He sits down on the bench and rolls a ciggy, chatting to Isabelle as the party following us tee off and stare at us in disbelief.
After a few minutes, I remind him he has the honour, and he replies that he knows this, but he has to wait for the party in front of us to clear the green (which we cannot see) since he wants to drive over the trees and take the dog-leg out of play.
Ooooooooookay then.... how about if Isabelle and I tee off in the normal (sane) way then?
"But.... I have the honour" he says.... and new levels of dickishness are achieved.
He gets the message when the following party reaches the green beside where we are waiting and tears him a new one, and finally tees off, only to see his mammoth drive soar long and left.
Isabelle and I tee off along the normal fairway and set off to play our second shots, leaving J and his caddy to find his lost ball. As we rejoin them on the other side of the water hazard, we are amazed to see that he has, indeed managed to find his ball amongst all the rough and trees and shrubbery. Luck o' the Irish, this boy.
Isabelle and I exchange looks which say something along the lines of "It's amazing how that ball ended up over there after that drive, isn't it?", and we all set off towards the green.
Suddenly Isabelle spots a ball.
"Isn't' this your ball, J?", she asks
"No", he says, "I just played mine".
"A Titleist", she says, "with your initials on it?"
BUSTED!
I've never seen anyone go so red whilst backpedalling so quickly. He stammers out several excuses - that must not have been his ball which he played from the rough, apparently - and mutters something about if we want to assign him a penalty stroke for playing the wrong ball that would be fair.
This is my chance! Overlooking the fact that the first ball he played now nestling on the green is also a Titleist with his initials on it (!) I smile sweetly and suggest that it could happen to anyone and we wouldn't dream of assigning a penalty stroke...
It is worth the magnanimous gesture just to watch him squirm and know that we won't be having any more trouble from him for the rest of the round.
Until the next hole, at least....
The 17th is a long par 5, and he lets rip from the tee with another mammoth drive.... straight out of bounds to the left (this is actually outside the golf course boundary, so no chance of finding it... ever).
I suggest he might want to play a provisional ball?
"No thanks", he says, "that drive was hyper long - we will find it on the fairway"
Uh oh....
All four of us spend the next 5 minutes looking for the ball which is probably nestling in the skull of a recently deceased wild boar 300 metres west of where we're looking.
J insists on looking in the rough along the right side of the fairway, despite the fact that the cries of the clearly distressed/concussed boar can be heard to our left. I generously decide to stick with him while he searches to make sure he does not end up accidentally playing someone else's ball again.
"Perhaps you would like to help my caddy and Isabelle look over there?" he says.
"Not at all, old chap", I reply, "divide and conquer, we will find it in no time together".
In the end he has to trek back to the tee, past the disapproving glares of the by now furious following party, and play a second shot, which he promptly loses in the water hazard on the right.
I would feel like a jerk if I permitted myself a smirk as he has to take a cross for this hole (Stableford)... so I don't. Instead, Isabelle and I finally get to finish out the hole ourselves, with the following party hot on our heels.
This puts a lot of pressure on us, and Isabelle tries to hurry things along. She fluffs a few shots, including her drives on the next 2 holes. I remind her that it is not OUR fault we are so far behind and she should take a deep breath and take her time with her shots.
As we loop round onto the first hole (we started on the 11th), J hits a massive drive.... hard left again, into the water hazard. Isabelle and I leave him to it, and he miraculously finds his ball perched on the only piece of grass in the middle of a (luckily dry) rocky stream bed.
His next shot goes long, but well into the rough along the left side of the fairway. He spends another five minutes looking for his ball, before locating it suddenly right opposite where I am standing.
I feel like such a jerk, because I could have helped him find his ball sooner had a just glanced across, since I can now see the ball clearly perched on top of that mound, whereas I never noticed it when I looked across there a minute ago. How stupid I am ....
He goes from strength to strength, sinking several very good pars over the next holes, and not even suggesting once that Isabelle and I are cheating. Well done, J.
Knowing that he needs pars from the remaining holes to get his handicap down, on the 8th, he smashes the ball wildly into the trees on the left of the fairway - surely well out of bounds once more. Isabelle jokes "It is probably in Montpellier". Oh how we laughed. This time, lesson learned, he plays a provisional before setting off to look for it.
Not finding it, he continues with his provisional ball until Isabelle and I reach the green. Then, as he searches for one last time through the trees miles away from where he hit his ball, he miraculously finds it. He really does have some luck, this lad - obviously the ball must have taken a wicked rebound before rolling 50 metres through thick undergrowth to end up just off the fairway 50 metres from the green.
He finishes out the hole with a par.
On to the 9th, and this hole is designated for the driving competition. I don't get suckered in - I know I am not as long as some at the club, so it is more important for me to get this ball on the fairway than to go for the testosterone shot out of bounds.
J is all about testosterone, of course, and smashes an incredible-looking drive.... hard left. We do find this one together - unfortunately a good 40 metres short of the current leader in the long drive competition. He is also in the rough, now, needing a good draw round the trees to hit the green.
He doesn't manage it...
With a face as long as a Frenchman's lunch hour he trudges to the final tee and proceeds to smack a mighty drive.... hard right. This is back into the water hazard which he got stuck in alongside the first fairway, and Isabelle and I take pity on him and help him look for his ball.
After 5 minutes, we give up but, as we are walking away he miraculously finds it one last time. This boy is SO lucky.
And so, the end of the round, and we tot up our scores. I hadn't felt my putting was up to snuff today, so I am amazed to find I broke 90 for the first time ever. 44 out and 45 back for a total of 89, and a Stableford score of 47. Average drive was around 200 metres, average putts per hole was 1.8, I hit 9 fairways and 1 green, and I got 5 pars.
I am over the moon, and this score gets my handicap down to 19.6!
Competition day is always a great social occasion at the club, with everyone hanging around afterwards for the food and drink while we wait for the prize-giving. As expected, the food is of a very high standard, boosted by the fact that they ran a tart-making competition alongside the golf competition today, so we got to taste lots of different savoury and sweet tarts - some good, some not so good, one downright disgusting!
Also a lot of fun is the chipping competition, from the terrace of the 19th onto a small table set up by the 18th green. Photos below - only two people managed to hit the table, by the way... I blame the amount of wine that had been consumed by the time they started this competition!
Finally, the prize-giving, and joy unbounded! I won 1st prize for the men's second division, whilst Lynne won second prize for Ladies third division. We will be eating well from le Halles de Nimes for some time to come...
I am partnered with a very nice lady called Isabelle, and a complete arse-hole who I shall refer to only as J. You know he is going to be an arse-hole when he turns up late for tee-off, spends ages talking to his "caddy" (oh yes....that's another dead giveaway, of course! Nearly forgot about that one....), rolls and lights a ciggy, and generally dicks about while we watch the next party approach down the previous fairway (this is a shot-gun tee-off) and Isabelle and I get more and more anxious.
Isabelle, suggests I tee off first since J is not ready, and so I do. As I leave the first tee, he looks at me sternly (he's probably half my age!) and states that "Really the honour is with me, you know" - this because, despite the fact he was dicking around and not ready to play, he has a handicap which is 0.2 lower than mine.
Like I said, an arse-hole - I am sure you agree.
I tell him "Well, you weren't ready" and I walk off.
J goes on to scale new heights of arse-hole-ness as we score the first hole. Isabelle is keeping my score card, and I shoot a par.
"I thought you shot 6" says J.
"Huh?" says I.
"Yes", he says, "I thought you missed a shot in the trees over there?"
Well, if I HAD missed a shot, arse-hole, that would have made it a 5, not 6, wouldn't it? And since I didn't miss a shot, then no, it's still a 4. We go through my shots carefully, one by one, until he grudgingly admits that perhaps it was a par after all, as the party following us gets closer and closer.
On the next hole, a par 3, I shoot pin-high just left of the green, while he misses miles to the right. My second shot is a delicate chip to within 6 feet of the pin, while his just about crawls onto the green. My third shot is in the hole, while he takes three putts to sink it.
As we walk off the green, he says "So that was a 4 for you then?"
"No, it was a par"
"Really?"
We go through my shots carefully one by one until J - the person who is not even supposed to be keeping MY score, remember - grudgingly admits that both Isabelle and I can, indeed, count up to 3.
I have had enough. This constant sniping will sap my confidence in no time so I take him to one side and suggest it is not his place to keep my score, and if he insists on doing it, then he should stop adding on shots as he sees fit. He agrees.
On the next hole, a par 4, he asks cheerfully if I got a par, as we leave the green?
"No, it was a bogey", I reply. That's better...
We complete the par 3 15th without incident, and he has the honour as we wait to tee off on the 16th, a severe par 4 dog-leg. He sits down on the bench and rolls a ciggy, chatting to Isabelle as the party following us tee off and stare at us in disbelief.
After a few minutes, I remind him he has the honour, and he replies that he knows this, but he has to wait for the party in front of us to clear the green (which we cannot see) since he wants to drive over the trees and take the dog-leg out of play.
Ooooooooookay then.... how about if Isabelle and I tee off in the normal (sane) way then?
"But.... I have the honour" he says.... and new levels of dickishness are achieved.
He gets the message when the following party reaches the green beside where we are waiting and tears him a new one, and finally tees off, only to see his mammoth drive soar long and left.
Isabelle and I tee off along the normal fairway and set off to play our second shots, leaving J and his caddy to find his lost ball. As we rejoin them on the other side of the water hazard, we are amazed to see that he has, indeed managed to find his ball amongst all the rough and trees and shrubbery. Luck o' the Irish, this boy.
Isabelle and I exchange looks which say something along the lines of "It's amazing how that ball ended up over there after that drive, isn't it?", and we all set off towards the green.
Suddenly Isabelle spots a ball.
"Isn't' this your ball, J?", she asks
"No", he says, "I just played mine".
"A Titleist", she says, "with your initials on it?"
BUSTED!
I've never seen anyone go so red whilst backpedalling so quickly. He stammers out several excuses - that must not have been his ball which he played from the rough, apparently - and mutters something about if we want to assign him a penalty stroke for playing the wrong ball that would be fair.
This is my chance! Overlooking the fact that the first ball he played now nestling on the green is also a Titleist with his initials on it (!) I smile sweetly and suggest that it could happen to anyone and we wouldn't dream of assigning a penalty stroke...
It is worth the magnanimous gesture just to watch him squirm and know that we won't be having any more trouble from him for the rest of the round.
Until the next hole, at least....
The 17th is a long par 5, and he lets rip from the tee with another mammoth drive.... straight out of bounds to the left (this is actually outside the golf course boundary, so no chance of finding it... ever).
I suggest he might want to play a provisional ball?
"No thanks", he says, "that drive was hyper long - we will find it on the fairway"
Uh oh....
All four of us spend the next 5 minutes looking for the ball which is probably nestling in the skull of a recently deceased wild boar 300 metres west of where we're looking.
J insists on looking in the rough along the right side of the fairway, despite the fact that the cries of the clearly distressed/concussed boar can be heard to our left. I generously decide to stick with him while he searches to make sure he does not end up accidentally playing someone else's ball again.
"Perhaps you would like to help my caddy and Isabelle look over there?" he says.
"Not at all, old chap", I reply, "divide and conquer, we will find it in no time together".
In the end he has to trek back to the tee, past the disapproving glares of the by now furious following party, and play a second shot, which he promptly loses in the water hazard on the right.
I would feel like a jerk if I permitted myself a smirk as he has to take a cross for this hole (Stableford)... so I don't. Instead, Isabelle and I finally get to finish out the hole ourselves, with the following party hot on our heels.
This puts a lot of pressure on us, and Isabelle tries to hurry things along. She fluffs a few shots, including her drives on the next 2 holes. I remind her that it is not OUR fault we are so far behind and she should take a deep breath and take her time with her shots.
As we loop round onto the first hole (we started on the 11th), J hits a massive drive.... hard left again, into the water hazard. Isabelle and I leave him to it, and he miraculously finds his ball perched on the only piece of grass in the middle of a (luckily dry) rocky stream bed.
His next shot goes long, but well into the rough along the left side of the fairway. He spends another five minutes looking for his ball, before locating it suddenly right opposite where I am standing.
I feel like such a jerk, because I could have helped him find his ball sooner had a just glanced across, since I can now see the ball clearly perched on top of that mound, whereas I never noticed it when I looked across there a minute ago. How stupid I am ....
He goes from strength to strength, sinking several very good pars over the next holes, and not even suggesting once that Isabelle and I are cheating. Well done, J.
Knowing that he needs pars from the remaining holes to get his handicap down, on the 8th, he smashes the ball wildly into the trees on the left of the fairway - surely well out of bounds once more. Isabelle jokes "It is probably in Montpellier". Oh how we laughed. This time, lesson learned, he plays a provisional before setting off to look for it.
Not finding it, he continues with his provisional ball until Isabelle and I reach the green. Then, as he searches for one last time through the trees miles away from where he hit his ball, he miraculously finds it. He really does have some luck, this lad - obviously the ball must have taken a wicked rebound before rolling 50 metres through thick undergrowth to end up just off the fairway 50 metres from the green.
He finishes out the hole with a par.
On to the 9th, and this hole is designated for the driving competition. I don't get suckered in - I know I am not as long as some at the club, so it is more important for me to get this ball on the fairway than to go for the testosterone shot out of bounds.
J is all about testosterone, of course, and smashes an incredible-looking drive.... hard left. We do find this one together - unfortunately a good 40 metres short of the current leader in the long drive competition. He is also in the rough, now, needing a good draw round the trees to hit the green.
He doesn't manage it...
With a face as long as a Frenchman's lunch hour he trudges to the final tee and proceeds to smack a mighty drive.... hard right. This is back into the water hazard which he got stuck in alongside the first fairway, and Isabelle and I take pity on him and help him look for his ball.
After 5 minutes, we give up but, as we are walking away he miraculously finds it one last time. This boy is SO lucky.
And so, the end of the round, and we tot up our scores. I hadn't felt my putting was up to snuff today, so I am amazed to find I broke 90 for the first time ever. 44 out and 45 back for a total of 89, and a Stableford score of 47. Average drive was around 200 metres, average putts per hole was 1.8, I hit 9 fairways and 1 green, and I got 5 pars.
I am over the moon, and this score gets my handicap down to 19.6!
Competition day is always a great social occasion at the club, with everyone hanging around afterwards for the food and drink while we wait for the prize-giving. As expected, the food is of a very high standard, boosted by the fact that they ran a tart-making competition alongside the golf competition today, so we got to taste lots of different savoury and sweet tarts - some good, some not so good, one downright disgusting!
Also a lot of fun is the chipping competition, from the terrace of the 19th onto a small table set up by the 18th green. Photos below - only two people managed to hit the table, by the way... I blame the amount of wine that had been consumed by the time they started this competition!
Finally, the prize-giving, and joy unbounded! I won 1st prize for the men's second division, whilst Lynne won second prize for Ladies third division. We will be eating well from le Halles de Nimes for some time to come...
Joke
A man died and went to Heaven.
As he stood in front of the Pearly Gates, he saw a huge wall of clocks behind St Peter..
He asked, 'What are all those clocks?'
St. Peter answered, 'Those are Lie-Clocks. Everyone on earth has a Lie-Clock. Every time you lie the hands on your clock move.'
'Oh', said the man. 'Whose clock is that?'
'That's Mother Teresa's', replied St. Peter. 'The hands have never moved, indicating that she never told a lie.'
'Incredible', said the man. 'And whose clock is that one?'
St. Peter responded, 'That's Abraham Lincoln's clock. The hands have moved twice, telling us that Abraham told only two lies in his entire life.'
'Where's Gordon Brown's clock?' asked the man.
'Brown's clock is in Jesus's office. He's using it as a ceiling fan.'
PS: Would St Peter bother keeping clocks of those going to hell?
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