Golf

I used to play golf at Brandhall, near junction 2 of the M5 near Oldbury.
That's the geography lesson over.
I sometimes played against a chap who was an absolute fanatic. He played 5 times a week, hail, rain or shine, even when he felt under the weather. Even if the weather was under the weather.
He played like a professional and nothing put him off. He could have been wearing blinkers.

Any road up, we teed off on the first. He didn't seem to be concentrating. I even won the hole, and if you've played Brandhall you will know the first is a corker - 525 yards, par 5, uphill most of the way. I didn't need a scorecard, more like an abacus.

The second hole passed by uneventfully, then the third and the fourth. Now, the fifth hole runs alongside the main road that runs at the back of the course (to Langley, I think). I had won the last hole, so I teed off, and it was a pearler. He took his driver out of this bag, teed up the ball and suddenly paused. Now, at this stage I have to remind you that this guy was a fanatic, and nothing, I mean NOTHING puts him off his golf.

Amazingly, he put his club on the ground and stood up straight, took off his cap and bowed his head. I then noticed that a funeral cortege was passing very slowly down the main road at the back of the course. This didn't make sense. After all these years, nothing had managed to put him off his tee shot.

"What's going on" I said.

"Well, fairs fair. You've got to show respect. She was a good wife"