Golf course living
Created | Updated Apr 26, 2002
Living on a golf course, of course, would be frowned on by the
members of it's club, unless you were tall enough to be a tree,
thin enough to pass for a flag or wet enough to appear to be a water
hazard.
However, living on campus at a university that was once a golf course
can give you an insight into it without being bothered by men in plus
fours.
The first thing that's bloody inconvenient is the number of artificial
hills, unnecessary nobbly bits in the ground put where the god-head
did not intend them to be. Tough to negotiate. Doubly tough when
you're drunk.
Triply tough when it's dark and icy, you're drunk and wearing cheap
shoes with no traction.
Any significant water hazards become convenient lakes, which is
unfortunate because with every lake you get mysteries, curiosities
and at least one ghost. It's terrible, really.
Rabbits that previously were persecuted away from the course return
to claim it back, gruadually becoming desensitised from their natural
fear of man, and eventually making small ropes, stealing into your
room and nibbling on your Captain Beefheart CDs.
And of course there's the influx of people who still think it's a golf
course and wander the area for days in search of holes, or a clubhouse,
or somewhere they can get a caddy.
Of course, there's money to be made making your own holes and
pretending to be a caddy. But it requires far to much ingenuity
for you to understand.
Don't ever live on a golf course. Live on a football pitch.
(or soccer pitch, as the colonials might say...)
members of it's club, unless you were tall enough to be a tree,
thin enough to pass for a flag or wet enough to appear to be a water
hazard.
However, living on campus at a university that was once a golf course
can give you an insight into it without being bothered by men in plus
fours.
The first thing that's bloody inconvenient is the number of artificial
hills, unnecessary nobbly bits in the ground put where the god-head
did not intend them to be. Tough to negotiate. Doubly tough when
you're drunk.
Triply tough when it's dark and icy, you're drunk and wearing cheap
shoes with no traction.
Any significant water hazards become convenient lakes, which is
unfortunate because with every lake you get mysteries, curiosities
and at least one ghost. It's terrible, really.
Rabbits that previously were persecuted away from the course return
to claim it back, gruadually becoming desensitised from their natural
fear of man, and eventually making small ropes, stealing into your
room and nibbling on your Captain Beefheart CDs.
And of course there's the influx of people who still think it's a golf
course and wander the area for days in search of holes, or a clubhouse,
or somewhere they can get a caddy.
Of course, there's money to be made making your own holes and
pretending to be a caddy. But it requires far to much ingenuity
for you to understand.
Don't ever live on a golf course. Live on a football pitch.
(or soccer pitch, as the colonials might say...)
