A Personalized History Of Scottish Golf Or You'll Not Do That Here, Laddie

"I'll be frank. Charles," I said. "I have no idea which way to go or what with."

"Have a go with the spoon, Sir," he said.

"The spoon?" I shrieked. "Where the hell am I going with a spoon?"

"A spoon"ll get you across the burn, Sir, but it'll na get you to the Sleepers," he said.

"Hold it," I said. "Just wait a minute." My body was sort of slumped over and I was holding the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. "These, uh, Sleepers. They're out there somewhere?"

"Aye, the Sleepers," he said.

"And, uh, they just kind of hang around, right?"

"Aye, the Sleepers have took many a golfer."

Somehow I kept the three-wood in play and when I reached the shot, Charles casually handed me the four-wood. I took the club and addressed the ball, hoping to hit quickly and get on past the Sleepers, wherever they were. But Charles stopped me.

"Not that way, Sir," he said.