The Royal Cinque Ports Golf Club, Sandwich, Kent
Circa: February 2011
The Royal Cinque Ports, one of three on the links in Sandwich, adjacent to the Club, where "dogs and women" are not, so John Gould, 83, tells, blood eyed and slaver, "allowed in the club house." There are women that I know, albeit vaguely, who would find that view, offered privately a reason to phone up Plod. They do not take offense at the Royal Cinque Ports.
Lunch, Sunday. The links are bleak when the wind blows. It does, the carry long the rough unforgiving of a skewed drive, bunkers designed for the Open. There are no ponds, some dykes.
"Do you play golf"
I do
"Are you a member of a Club. A proper club"
I ignore him and stare. The tenure of this lunch is set.
I remark on the tattered edges and muddy colour of the flags, the Club and the Jack blowing on thier flagpole.
"I once ran a company that won the catering contract to provide lunch to the Dar es Salaam, Yacht Club. I was a member. The late Frank Jensen, once a Commordore said to me:
"We have seen off all the caterers we have had for the last thirty years and I am sure will see off you." He was right about that. Rene, who did the cooking, was sucessful in persuading the members to dally long with the waitresses. This upset the Commitee a lot. I can understand that.
Johnie Gould is not the late Gould, loathed as he is, says his partner of 27 years.
Gould went to pee, not easy at 83. At the top of the grand stairs a stumble, roll and smother could do. There may be no need of boots. He is reputed to be strong boned with a Rasputin reputation. I had come to have lunch with my girlfriend, a staunch member, not to be involved in unexplained death, but it would have been a kick for the good. Always think of the proximity of Plod.
Frank, a kind hearted man who had offered his flat in Spain to be base for our trip to Grenada is by profession a guard in maximum security prison for women in Norway. He told me most of them should not be there but because of their mental state. I was surprised, being English, that there could be such a prison in Norway.
"Birgitte, 22, as blond as your dreams. 15 years for doing for her grand father. A kick down the stairs, sat on his face u til he died, said, I gave it to him one more time"
Great line, the judge smiled?.
I do not approve of that kind of thing, or any type of sex or murder, though it is, all of it, understandable. There are some funerals that would be a real celebration. As I am sure will mine.
The Royal Cinque Ports, one of three on the links in Sandwich, adjacent to the Club, where "dogs and women" are not, so John Gould, 83, tells, blood eyed and slaver, "allowed in the club house." There are women that I know, albeit vaguely, who would find that view, offered privately a reason to phone up Plod. They do not take offense at the Royal Cinque Ports.
Lunch, Sunday. The links are bleak when the wind blows. It does, the carry long the rough unforgiving of a skewed drive, bunkers designed for the Open. There are no ponds, some dykes.
"Do you play golf"
I do
"Are you a member of a Club. A proper club"
I ignore him and stare. The tenure of this lunch is set.
I remark on the tattered edges and muddy colour of the flags, the Club and the Jack blowing on thier flagpole.
"I once ran a company that won the catering contract to provide lunch to the Dar es Salaam, Yacht Club. I was a member. The late Frank Jensen, once a Commordore said to me:
"We have seen off all the caterers we have had for the last thirty years and I am sure will see off you." He was right about that. Rene, who did the cooking, was sucessful in persuading the members to dally long with the waitresses. This upset the Commitee a lot. I can understand that.
Johnie Gould is not the late Gould, loathed as he is, says his partner of 27 years.
Gould went to pee, not easy at 83. At the top of the grand stairs a stumble, roll and smother could do. There may be no need of boots. He is reputed to be strong boned with a Rasputin reputation. I had come to have lunch with my girlfriend, a staunch member, not to be involved in unexplained death, but it would have been a kick for the good. Always think of the proximity of Plod.
Frank, a kind hearted man who had offered his flat in Spain to be base for our trip to Grenada is by profession a guard in maximum security prison for women in Norway. He told me most of them should not be there but because of their mental state. I was surprised, being English, that there could be such a prison in Norway.
"Birgitte, 22, as blond as your dreams. 15 years for doing for her grand father. A kick down the stairs, sat on his face u til he died, said, I gave it to him one more time"
Great line, the judge smiled?.
I do not approve of that kind of thing, or any type of sex or murder, though it is, all of it, understandable. There are some funerals that would be a real celebration. As I am sure will mine.
posted by Michael | 8:02 pm
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2 comments
