David Robbins: Leather armchairs, oak panelling and dozing colonels . . .
This week, a letter arrived bearing the insignia of my golf club. It was, I was sure, a letter informing me that I had moved from the ante-room of pavilion membership into the sunny drawing room reserved for full members.
I tore open the envelope. It was not the letter I expected, but a list of pavilion member fixtures. I must content myself with another while in the ante-room.
I showed the letter to my wife. She tried to be sympathetic, but her heart wasn't in it. A little smile kept playing at the corners of her mouth. "Ah well," she said, and left it at that.