Insulting but thoroughly decent

Our flat overlooks the Burgess Golf Club. One of the oldest clubs in Scotland it moved to its present site in 1896, and put up this rather fine tudor type edifice as a clubhouse.

It is a tidy establishment, although reading the Dress Code reminds me why I wouldn't want to be a member. Golf clubs have every right to have rules, as I have every right to avoid being drawn in to their petty stuffiness, although at the risk of fanning the ire of my lady friends at least you can usually get away from chattering women in the boys bar (until the weekend that is)

With its neat row of designated parking spaces, Captain, Vice Captain, Treasurer and Past Captains (4 of) and well away from them and segregated, General Manager and Professional, it reminds me of the grand old days of cricket where Gentlemen and Players were kept apart, wives made the tea and the pavilion was for Gentlemen members and non players only. Or the old divide between Rugby League and Rugby Union.

Pardon me whilst I don my Shell suit and Denim Jacket and attempt to book a table for lunch.