I played golf yesterday with my son, his mate and his Dad (also my mate). First time playing with these folks and so were hoping for some sunny weather with an autumnal breeze blowing the early falling leaves across the fairways and greens. What we didn’t expect, or at least believe was that we’ed be in the middle of the eye of some horrific tempest, the rain started prior to the first hole and let up for 5 minutes possibly around the third, and then came back with a vengeance soaking us to the clothes, then the outer skin, then the inner skin and finally permeating into our bones, freezing us as we trudged down the ninth. By that time we were spent, wet and craving the dulcet notes of some soft velvety Guinness and a chair to slump into so that it might soak up some of the excess. Once you stop, the adrenaline stops flowing and the realisation of how wet we were manifested itself in 4 eager blokes chugging down the blackness as quickly as possible so as to get packed up and into the car and slap on the heated seats, steering wheel and as much as the hot fan could muster. 

I don’t; think one of us would have hesitated to call it off individually, but the pack mentality took over and so we played 9, and paid for 18. The bastards behind the counter won, and I had to buy an umbrella for a small fortune. It was proper vicious torrential wet. I’m not doing that again.