Kiwi... Unleashed!

I�m currently on vacation for two weeks in Wales, where some of my family resides. I�ve been here before- once for three weeks when I was twelve years old, and then again several years ago when I came for eight days for my cousin�s wedding. I absolutely love it- it�s one of the most beautiful places I�ve seen, and the countryside is breathtaking. I�d gladly come here for vacation every year, and I�d actually like to come more often than that. I�ll write here about my vacation adventures further at another time.

One thing you have to understand about Wales is that there are so many fucking sheep here it is ridiculous- the things are everywhere! You literally can�t take a 10 minute drive without seeing sheep, or go for a day without hearing them baaaa�ing at least from a distance, if not from a field across the street. Not that it�s a complaint- it�s part of the charm of this country, along with the green rolling hills. Another advantage is that you can�t come here without eating lamb in some form, and it�s in unending supply, as well as dirt cheap. Yeah, I�m eating baby sheep. Sue me- the shit�s delicious!

About 3 blocks up the road from where my aunt and uncle live, at the top of the hill, is a golf course. You can walk the perimeter of the course and see the bay and town below (I decided I�m going to check that out next time I need a break from my family.) I�ve never played golf, or should I say �grown-up golf�, since I have putt-putted since I was little. What I mean is that I�ve never had to walk a mile after the ball I hit, and I don�t intend to in the future. Basically, if there aren�t windmills or a dolphins involved, I�m just plain not interested.

So I walked up to the golf course one morning, and as I come up to the entrance, there is a little bridge kind of thing which consists of a bunch of four inch wide poles spaced about four inches apart where the cars enter and exit the course. There is a barrier of bars on the left, and a gate on the right beside the bridge that has a spring mechanism so that after you walk through the gate, it shuts behind you. I wondered what prompted them to make the entrance this way, until I went through the gate and walked a short way up the hill to the course.

There is a sign that says �Welcome to (whatever) golf club� just beyond the gate and a little parking lot beside the club building. I looked out onto the course, and guess what- there were more sheep than people out there- ambling around like they own the damned golf club. Baaaaa! Baaaaa! The bastards were wandering all over the golf course, and occasionally there was a person or two walking along dragging their clubs behind them. I hope they had sheep pooper scoopers in their golf bags too, because there were little piles of sheep shit all over the place.

I can only imagine what the tournaments there are like� �Mr. Jones is preparing to make his putt- he�s 10 feet from the hole� aww, his path was hindered by a pile of sheep dung, so he�ll have to try again.� I just hope the poor sheep don�t get hurt out there with all those golf balls flying around. Poor things, minding their own business and eating grass, when all of a sudden, �smack!� Of course, I guess a ball would just bounce off a sheep�s wool, unless it got stuck in there- how would the golfers deal with that? �Hey, did you see my ball around here? Ahh, there it is� now how am I gonna hit it from there? Pardon me, Mr. Sheep, but would you mind being a good chap and holding still for just a moment?� I also wonder how many golf balls ended up never being found, having been accidentally eaten by the sheep.

So, just remember that, in your lifetime, you ever have a desire to join a golf club but just aren�t up to par, remember one important thing. At least when you play putt-putt, the most extensive ball recovery you could endure involves nothing more than reaching into a one-foot wide, two-inch deep �stream� or climbing into a giant mushroom, and I�m not trying to pull the wool over your eyes.

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