Here comes the flood

We were all surprised and caught out but in fairness to the Met Office, they did warn that the north east would be subject to thunderstorms and intense rain, just not the apocalyptic variety that arrived.  There are many tales from the day, some of them very unpleasant for those involved but here is some light relief.

The fifteenth at Allendale Golf Club is called Perdition and is descibed on our website as follows:

As in life, disaster and final judgement are but a short distance from triumph and elation.  The 15th is the hardest hole on the course but no matter how hard, surely it is better to play than not at all, for that would be true perdition:

Remember the story of the fanatical golfer who died and found himself on the most beautiful golf course imaginable with rows of shining clubs to choose from.  He contentedly concluded that some fortunate mistake had been made by the recording angel and that he must be in heaven after all.  But then his caddie, a slight figure with narrow red eyes, enlightened him – there are no balls.

I was out on Perdition yesterday afternoon with Ian, Billy and Alan, playing in a seniors match when someone turned the lights out and the skies erupted.  Four golf umbrellas resolutely continued walking regardless of the torrent, regardless of the thunderclaps, there is no klaxon at Allendale.  My second shot cleared the line of trees that cross the fairway and my third, a nine iron, just held the right hand edge of the green, now two thirds water.  A chip from the edge of the green left a four foot tester; with no umbrella for protection, water trickling down my neck, my glasses misting up, two cups appeared.  I aimed between the two and sank the putt to go three up with three to play; our friends from Bellingham conceded to us, the weather and fate.  We headed for the clubhouse drenched.

Are we completely insane or what.

The view from the clubhouse

And for the lyrically minded, some appropriate words from Peter Gabriel, if a little OTT:

When the flood calls
You have no home, you have no walls
In the thunder crash
You’re a thousand minds, within a flash
Don’t be afraid to cry at what you see
The actors gone, there’s only you and me
And if we break before the dawn, they’ll
use up what we used to be.

Lord, here comes the flood
We’ll say goodbye to flesh and blood
If again the seas are silent
in any still alive
It’ll be those who gave their island to survive
Drink up, dreamers, you’re running dry.

And then watch the artist at work:

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