On Monday I had 4 instances of balls flying towards, near and over me without a single cry of FORE.

On the last occasion the ball landed with some considerable force in the greenside bunker a yard away from where I was about to play a chip.

Now clearly, from where he started looking, the other player - who was playing a different hole - thought the ball had flown passed me.

"Be mature" my good angel told me "let him know where the ball is"; "Nuts to that" said my bad angel looking over my other shoulder "Pick it up yourself, putt out and walk away, it might not teach him a lesson but it will make you feel better".

And you know what? It did.

But I'm sure I shouldn't have done it.

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I firmly believe that we should try to experience all that life affords, except, perhaps, bestiality and of course Morris Dancing.