for a set of clubs and a similar amount in competition fees and sundry expenses, and in return for such a high outlay receive nothing for it but utter frustration, if not humiliation. It is some sort of consolation therefore, and an advantage which golf holds over most other sports, that it is a game which is almost always played in pleasant surroundings. Not for golf the bare enclosed environs of a squash court or the monotony of an endless running track, a muddy rugby pitch or the stark tiled surfaces of a swimming pool. No, by and large the amphitheatre in which the golfer plays his sport is of gently rolling pastures or links land, trees and bushes of every known variety lining the fairways as they wind their broad green swathe from tee to green, with perhaps some colourful clumps of gorse and heather here and there, enhanced by little swales and hillocks, maybe a small stream criss-crossing the fairway at various points as it threads a path through the course, with very often a lake or two thrown in for good measure.
An added attraction is that when a golfer goes about his golf he is much nearer to nature than is the participator in most other sports. There are birds to see and hear, ducks, geese, pied wagtails, jays, kingfishers; there are small mammals to observe, squirrels, rabbits, stoats, weasels, maybe a fox or a deer if one is lucky; there are insects, dragonflies, butterflies and moths; and there are wild flowers and colourful shrubs to see and smell. And as the golfer proceeds on his way through the course, from driving off at the first tee until putting out on the eighteenth green, he can continually drink from his surroundings, take sustenance from them, so that even if he is having a bad day as far as the golf is concerned his journey will not have been a complete waste of time. Not without good reason did Mark Twain once comment that golf is a good walk spoilt.
Sunnymere Golf Club was especially blessed. A member of a visiting party once remarked that he always enjoyed playing there as the course was so picturesque that he didn't really mind how well or badly he played. Located in the Derbyshire Dales, itself considered by many to be the brightest jewel in England's crown, not only was the golf course itself set in beautiful countryside but it was surrounded by even more beautiful countryside, and as far as the eye could see.
The area around Sunnymere attracted many visitors, and at 9.10 a.m. on Captain's Day it had attracted two such visitors to the small copse just to the left of the limestone boundary wall bordering the second fairway. They were two young lovers, Dean Shawcross and his girlfriend Gemma Higginbottom, he eighteen years old, she a year younger. Who at the moment were loving. At least that's what Gemma called it. Dean called it getting his end away. And Gemma was loving, and Dean was getting his end away, as naked as the day they were born. In the nuddy as Gemma called it. Strip bollock naked as Dean called it.
Their coupling in the woods was born of necessity rather than any desire to fornicate al fresco. He wanted to make love, she wanted to make love, but there was nowhere for them to make it. He shared a bedroom with two older and inconsiderate brothers, who, far from keeping out of the way for an hour or so in order that he and his girlfriend might have the privacy of the bedroom to themselves, were far more likely to burst in on their lovemaking just for the fun of it; she had her own bedroom, but along with it a very strict mother who would ‘have none of that sort of thing going off under my roof, young lady'. Whenever the two young lovers had the opportunity to be together it seemed there was always somebody in Dean's house and always somebody in Gemma's house. This was especially true of Gemma’s house if Dean happened to be in it, Gemma’s mother making sure of that. So they made love wherever they could, and today they were making it in the copse by the second fairway at
An added attraction is that when a golfer goes about his golf he is much nearer to nature than is the participator in most other sports. There are birds to see and hear, ducks, geese, pied wagtails, jays, kingfishers; there are small mammals to observe, squirrels, rabbits, stoats, weasels, maybe a fox or a deer if one is lucky; there are insects, dragonflies, butterflies and moths; and there are wild flowers and colourful shrubs to see and smell. And as the golfer proceeds on his way through the course, from driving off at the first tee until putting out on the eighteenth green, he can continually drink from his surroundings, take sustenance from them, so that even if he is having a bad day as far as the golf is concerned his journey will not have been a complete waste of time. Not without good reason did Mark Twain once comment that golf is a good walk spoilt.
Sunnymere Golf Club was especially blessed. A member of a visiting party once remarked that he always enjoyed playing there as the course was so picturesque that he didn't really mind how well or badly he played. Located in the Derbyshire Dales, itself considered by many to be the brightest jewel in England's crown, not only was the golf course itself set in beautiful countryside but it was surrounded by even more beautiful countryside, and as far as the eye could see.
The area around Sunnymere attracted many visitors, and at 9.10 a.m. on Captain's Day it had attracted two such visitors to the small copse just to the left of the limestone boundary wall bordering the second fairway. They were two young lovers, Dean Shawcross and his girlfriend Gemma Higginbottom, he eighteen years old, she a year younger. Who at the moment were loving. At least that's what Gemma called it. Dean called it getting his end away. And Gemma was loving, and Dean was getting his end away, as naked as the day they were born. In the nuddy as Gemma called it. Strip bollock naked as Dean called it.
Their coupling in the woods was born of necessity rather than any desire to fornicate al fresco. He wanted to make love, she wanted to make love, but there was nowhere for them to make it. He shared a bedroom with two older and inconsiderate brothers, who, far from keeping out of the way for an hour or so in order that he and his girlfriend might have the privacy of the bedroom to themselves, were far more likely to burst in on their lovemaking just for the fun of it; she had her own bedroom, but along with it a very strict mother who would ‘have none of that sort of thing going off under my roof, young lady'. Whenever the two young lovers had the opportunity to be together it seemed there was always somebody in Dean's house and always somebody in Gemma's house. This was especially true of Gemma’s house if Dean happened to be in it, Gemma’s mother making sure of that. So they made love wherever they could, and today they were making it in the copse by the second fairway at
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