Ivor had acquired more than a mile of fishing rights with the house; he was not at all a good fisherman, but one must do something; one generally, however, banged a ball with a squash-racket against a wall.
The remote innocence of the time may be read not only in the sub—dollar greens fee but in the surreal presence of three solo golfers— “onesomes”—spaced out on a public course.
Don't forget to take the trimmings down by twelfth night.
Has anyone ever had a wank and you lay there in bed and you were feeling a bit horny and a bit not and you thought, “Will I? Won't I?” and you have this little discussion, and you think, “Yeah, it'd be nice.”
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