Good Luck, Play Well.

Driving down the coastal road. I ended up passing through a seaside amusement town, arcades, promenade, school trips and statics. An older couple sat in rain macs looking out over the North Sea. I turned the heating up in my car just a notch. I thought about old friends.

9 holes, 3 balls, 1 glove, 1 green sharpie; £39.48. “Good luck, play well.” The wind was up, the course was quiet. Swallows were flying, darting, free-falling, from here to there, at work, at play, at times a little too close. I said hello to the chap ahead of me as we passed between the 4th and 5th. I pissed in a cluster of trees. At the 8th I ate a tangerine.