A WYTCH STORY

The great Gowf

TheGreat Gowf

'Skelping the Hairy'*

In the dark and distant lands of the far North lay the historic 'auld bent' Golf Club; home to the great game of Golf since 1680. Here, they proudly maintained along tradition of illuminating the course with gas lamps in an effort to keep the 'driech' (p. dree-chh) off the grass. The 'driech' should never be confused with 'mist'. Poets have written romantic prose about mist. Nobody's ever had a good word to say about the 'driech'. And this far North it was as thick as treacle, and could cover everything in a cold damp veil of misery.

Down on the course and just 30 yards short of the green on a tricky par three, a group of players had found their progress blocked by what at first sight appeared to be a bundle of rags. At first there was just silence as they paused to consider how this might affect the average for the round.Then, without warning, what had at first appeared to be a large bundle of rags began to move! It was only when it began grumbling and complaining that the heap could be identified as 'possibly' human.

One of the golfers coughed and politely inquired "Ahem?" in an attempt to get the attention of 'who' or 'what' was blocking the approach to the green.

There was little response from the heap of rags, only muffled grumbling.

"Excuse me!" asked another Golf'ist desperately trying to hide his impatience.

The heap of rags suddenly turned and growled "WHITISSIT!" All one word, though it sounded like one long terrible letter!.

This abrupt response stopped the Golfers in their tracks. A senior club member sporting a lemon yellow Argyle sweater stepped forward and slowly shook his head. "You can't sleep here, this is private..." suddenly he wascut short by the sight of a hand held megaphone pointing at him!

"AWAYEGO!!" Blared the megaphone with enough force to almost knock him off his feet!. And with that, the heap of rags shuffled off down the hill. The members of the club stood and watched in utter astonishment. "Well, I never..."

Just then one of them was distracted by the sound of a motorcycle in the distance."A big single" he announced indicating towards the far edge of the course.

This random statement made no sense to his friends, who looked at him puzzled. When they turned around again they were mystified to find that the heap of rags was no longer there. After looking at each other, then the ground,then each other again, one of them pointed into the distance. There they could make out a dark shape shuffling towards the trees bordering the edge of the course. When all of a sudden it appeared to simply fly up and disappear from view!

With that the golfers shook their heads and continued on the final approach to the 6th (would suit an 8 iron... whatever that is?). As they made their way down the hill, little trolleys rattled and clubs jostled.Perhaps they would still make that tricky par three after all? Although it appeared some scoundrel had'removed' one of the gas lamps lighting the course.

*('skelping the hairy'- 'Skelp' from the Old Norse word meaning 'to hit',and a 'hairy' is a type of long forgotten golf ball, or 'gowf' as it was called back then)

Appendix

Dreich– A combination of dull, overcast, drizzly, cold, misty and miserable weather. At least 4 of the above adjectives must apply before the weather is truly Dreich.

Source:theurbandictionary.com

Historical accounts of the 'Dreich'

"It got worse in May, July has been awful.... stay away you'd hate it". An ancient account by a Druid from Southern England on his visit North.

"Aye it's shite, stay away, nothing to see or do here, if the cold disnae get you the midges will" Bruneep - Pictish commentator.

"They do have that unique horizontal rain, but other than that it's not bad" Grumm the Brave.