Oh what a heat wave can do. The weather this summer has been glorious compared to the past few years and for those of us who have holidayed at home we know what that has been like. Isn’t it funny though when you think back to your childhood and Summer, you always think of the sunny days? Truth be told the summers were probably just the same and we just remember the good days with sunshine.
I laugh when I think back to one particular day that I spent on the beach with my parents. Not so much the beach but indeed the journey home in the car. My memory is dreamlike, perhaps bits added but for the most it is correct.
The evening sun had taken the brightness leaving a red hue and that mellow feeling of calm had taken over the day. We were driving home, a little bit tired, a little bit sunburnt but very happy. My dad was a bit of a rascal all his life, always a man for a laugh and as an eight year old boy, of course this type of behaviour fell into the class of idol.
We were driving along just chatting amicably, listening to the radio when in the distance we could see a golf course at the side of the road. We all saw him but none of us said anything.
There in the distance was a golfer out for the day, in full golf regalia. Jumper, shoes, gloves, the lot. The funny thing was, that from where he was teeing off, he was on an elevated mount that was much higher than the road outside. So as he stood there he resembled a lofty statue waiting to be adored.
It was a winding road but no matter how long it winded we could see the golfer aloft his hill from wherever we were. Not to say it was that long, maybe the whole distance took us thirty or forty seconds but it is etched in my memory for more than thirty years.
The golfer was steadying himself for his shot. Feet shuffled into place, shoulders wriggled for comfort. We edged closer in the car. The golfer looked out to where he was going to hit the ball, eyes returning to his position. We all gazed from our car window. He took a practice swing or two to gauge his shot. We were intrigued, edging all the way closer and now getting a closer picture of this amateur sports man complete with cap. I could see we were now nearly upon him to the extent I could see the design of the twill on his trousers. He was concentrating heavily, I am sure he was conscious of only the ball in front of him. He had done all of his practice now and took his arms into position. We were almost upon him.
It was all too tempting for “the rascal.”
For as the golfer lifted his arms back to swing and take his shot, my dad drove past and beeped the car horn continuously, “Parp! Parp! Parp!” The golfer almost collapsed with the fright...his concentration and shot ruined. I looked out of the back window as we passed to see him looking bemused at the trio in the car laughing loudly.
It was a lovely ending to a perfect day. Well lovely for us anyhow. It was also one of the many fond memories my dad gave me and maybe manufactured me into being a bit of a rascal myself.
Say a prayer for him. He passed away a few weeks ago.