Golf in a Monsoon.

The Owner has had a busy weekend this weekend, but it was his own fault to be honest - and my mate Barney K9. He has been telling all his golfing chums how they are a bunch of sissies for not carrying on with their game when it starts to rain. His favourite line seems to be "Well your skin is waterproof!" and much to their annoyance he tells his chums this line at every opportunity like it was the first time in the history of hoomun kind that it had ever been thought of. Then he laughs very loudly so it is clearly one of his special jokes that no-one ever gets. However, his only incursion into the world of golf was not a resounding success really and he was asked to leave the golf course by a less that agreeable green keeper. I'm not actually sure why he was called a green keeper as he wasn't particularly green and my mate Keeper Hoomun wears scratchy tweed suits that smell particularly good if you ask me. Not that you did, but I thought it rounded the sentence off nicely. After much humourous banter on the part of The Owner that no one else found funny, and a few too many beers he rather neatly backed himself into a corner over the whole golf thing and he had to drag his very loud trousers and jumpers out of the wardrobe narrowly averting any disastrous discoveries of my misdemeanour's that may have been hiding at the back. 

So his bag of golf bats safely in the car, The Owner, my mate Barney K9 and myself clambered into the car and headed to the golf course. I couldn't help but notice that the clouds coming over the hill were looking just the tiniest bit black and angry looking, but The Owner clearly hadn't noticed this fact and started as soon as he walked through the clubhouse door telling lots of hoomuns that he hoped they weren't going to let a little dribble of water prevent them from going out and playing their game. As the rains started to fall, it was The Owners turn to pick up his golf bats and head out onto the course. He was immediately trying to find some way of not going out there and told everyone that his old war wound (the one from the war he never fought in) was playing up and he didn't think he would be able to play today but the calls got louder from the hoomuns at the bar "But surely your skin is waterproof?". As did the claps of thunder from the storm clouds gathering overhead until he had to open the door and venture out onto the golf course. As the door opened, the light but threatening rain turned immediately into a tropical monsoon. Only without the tropical bit! Isn't it funny how his comeuppances are things which I am somehow compelled to join him with? No, I didn't think they were very funny either! My mate Barney K9 and I had found a square of carpet in the club house which was about our size, right underneath the table with the tea and biscuits on and fully intended to snooze the hour or two away whilst he got wet. He became very insistent that we had to join him, saying "If I have to get wet then so are you!" In a manner which gave me the impression there was little point arguing and so the three of us and another hoomun who appeared to have drawn the short straw and was chosen to accompany him and make sure he kept going to the end of the course.with no shortcuts. I will leave my laptop behind in the clubhouse and get it later when we return, wet I expect.