Tag Archives: humour#humor

Slice it Chop it and Put it on Some Greens

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Photos by Sandra Hurdis Finigan— Bill Flint and Zach Finigan

 

Fictional story–and the people are innocent–trust me innocent by Linda Seccaspina

It was a sunny morning at the Flint homestead in Carleton Place as Grandpa Bill Flint and Zach were beginning their pre-shot routine. Zach was visualizing his upcoming shot, when a voice came over the family home speaker system.
“WOULD THE GENTLEMEN ON THE WOMAN’S TEE BACK UP TO THE MEN’S TEE PLEASE?”

The two were still deep in their golf thoughts, seemingly impervious to the interruption. Again the announcement rang out even louder, and it was Grandma Carole and she meant business:

“Would the Gentlemen on the WOMEN’S tee kindly back up to the men’s tee.”

They both ignored the request and kept concentrating on making those holes, when once more, the same request was heard. This time they both stopped, turned, looked to the window  and directly at the person with the request and shouted back:

“Would the person in the clubhouse kindly stop shouting and let us play our second shot?”

 

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Photos by Sandra Hurdis Finigan— Carole Flint and Zach

Zach was a smooth operator at Flint Golf Club’s and soon attached himself to the prettiest lady golfer in the area, even if she was a source of irritation sometimes, and began boasting to her.

“You know,” said Zach, “the other member in this golf club is afraid to play me.  I think he is afraid I will bring out my secret weapon.”

 

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Photos by Sandra Hurdis Finigan—  Zach Finigan

Deciding to use the family anchor to play his next shot (The Anchor on Lake Ave East???? Land Ahoy!!! Mike Flint) he defied odds of 67 million-to-one to score two holes-in-one in the same round. He knew that he just did his best and not to worry about club presidents on loudspeakers and other golf things as his Grandfather Bill always said:

“Never worry about the game as they just named the game golf as all the other 4 letter words were taken”.

 

 

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historicalnotes

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Lunch time at the Perth Golf Course!! Photo by-Perth Remembered

 

WW2 Golf History

German aircraft from Norway would fly on missions to northern England; because of the icy weather conditions, the barrels of their guns had a small dab of wax to protect them. As they crossed the coast, they would clear their guns by firing a few rounds at the golf courses. Golfers were urged to take cover.

 

* Temporary Rules 1940 *

1. Players are asked to collect bombs and shrapnel to save causing damage to the mowing machines

2. In competitions, during gunfire players may take cover without incurring a penalty for ceasing playing.

3. The positions of known delayed action bombs are marked with red flags.

4. Shrapnel may be moved on the fairway, or in the bunkers, without penalty.

5. A ball moved or destroyed by enemy action, can be replaced without penalty provided it’s not nearer the hole.

6. A player whose stroke is affected by a bomb exploding may play another ball from the same place. Penalty one stroke. [A little harsh?]

 

Information where you can buy all Linda Seccaspina’s books-You can also read Linda in The Townships Sun and Screamin’ Mamas (USA)

Come and visit the Lanark County Genealogical Society Facebook page– what’s there? Cool old photos–and lots of things interesting to read. Also check out The Tales of Carleton Place.

 

 

relatedreading

 

Was Maurice Cornell the Greatest Golfer in Carleton Place?

The Hidden Gem in the Scottish Glen by Ted MacDonald

The Dacks and the Mysterious Old Anchor

The Anchor on Lake Ave East???? Land Ahoy!!! Mike Flint

Gluten Free Corn Dogs and the Old Carleton Place Alligator Hole –Chef Ben White

 

 

 

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A Tale of a Backgammon Case and a Squirrel

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The squirrel in the picture above is an old timer in my yard I call Kiri. He broke his tail last week and he can’t sit up for more than a minute before he just falls over. So he spends a lot of time on his side eating  a peanut or a piece of bread. He is getting a lot better, and from what I read his tail will break off soon which is a natural thing. But it made me remember this funny story.

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Eighteen years ago yesterday, I remember the death of a favourite black squirrel  who chose to pass away in our yard. My son Perry insisted this squirrel needed a proper burial. His grandfather, Nono, sensing  bacteria, and maybe a  future tetanus shot, suggested that instead of a funeral procession, it might be better to bury him. So Perry and Nono buried the squirrel and fashioned a makeshift cross for his grave. Nono made the sign of the cross and considered the whole  episode a done deal. One hour later he saw Perry trying to avoid him; carrying a small box.

It couldn’t be.

But it was.

There lying in  the bottom of the box was the deceased black squirrel. Perry had waited until his grandfather busied himself with something else and had dug him up. Nono firmly took the box away from him and told him to go into the house. When all was clear he buried the dead squirrel once again, and this time there was no grave marker. That should take care of it he thought.

What he did not know was that Perry was watching him carefully through the window, and knew exactly where his grandfather had laid the squirrel to rest for the second time. Apparently, he had already figured out his next move. It was a move that would baffle the mind for years to come. Perry used to carry a backgammon case around everywhere with him. He put all  his treasures in there, and literally took it to bed with him at night.

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That night when his Father and I got home from work we were never advised of the day’s proceedings. Perry and his brother were outside playing, and we settled in to have a quiet meal. As we took our first bite, Perry came into the kitchen with a smile from ear to ear.

“I have something to show you Mum”, he said.

I grinned, and encouraged him to show us the treasures he had in his backgammon case. He began to laugh like he had a million bucks in there, and flung open the backgammon case and screamed,

“Da Da!”

All we needed to see was the hint of black fur, and we both screamed in horror. There lying inside the case was the very dead, now getting a little smelly, black squirrel. His father immediately grabbed his dinner plate and ran out of the room in horror. It was almost like he sensed that Perry might serve  him up for dinner. His grandfather came running in, and quickly took everything  away from him. The case was then emptied into a box, and then loaded up in the pick up truck . It was then buried so many miles away Perry would have had to rent a tracking dog to find it.

To this day, this is one of Perry’s favourite stories to tell. He now has replaced the backgammon case with fast cars, construction machinery, and a wife. No word yet whether his daughter Sophia will take up her father’s hobbies.