Boys -- Fiction; Cricket -- Fiction; Golf stories; Love stories; Schools -- Fiction; Young men -- Fiction
However unpleasant this foray might be for the Scottish golfer, it
presented certain compensating features to the Scottish railways and
hotel-proprietors. Of remote villages, which had formerly figured in the
traffic returns as occasional yielders of a truck-load of fish, there
now appeared highly-tinted pictures, with the Company's name at the top
and a list of trains at the bottom. The hotel proprietors, on their
part, quickly realising that to the average Englishman a golf-course
consists of any tract of land in Scotland plentifully endowed with
rabbit-holes, hastily staked out a claim on the nearest collection of
sand-hills, and advertised to all and sundry that visitors to their
hotel would be permitted, for a consideration, to play golf over the
celebrated links of so-and-so, "adjoining the hotel."
Port Allan was one of the places which benefited by reason of the boom.
The nearest railway station was seven miles away, but the Company
quickly remedied that defect, and advertised through bookings from
King's Cross. A special time-table was published, decorated at the top
with a coloured view of the Links of Eric, in the foreground of which a
golf-match was in progress between a gentleman in a sky-blue Norfolk
suit and a red cap, and a lady in a red dress and a sky-blue hat. The
lady was depicted in the act of driving off from the tee (with a blue
putter); while the gentleman, rather ungallantly, had gone forward a few
yards, and was engaged in playing out of the first bunker (with a red
brassie).
The inhabitants of Port Allan soon realised that to play golf over their
own links in summer was out of the question. They accordingly accepted
the situation, and, relegating their own golfing efforts to the autumn,
turned to the equally congenial task of spoiling the Egyptians. Elderly
seafaring men, who had hitherto extracted a precarious livelihood from
the grudging ocean, abandoned their nets and took to carrying clubs, the
fee of eighteenpence per round which they were permitted to charge being
inclusive of a vast amount of caustic criticism, and priceless, if
unintelligible, advice.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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