Poetry

James Grant: An Ordinary Fellow

An Ordinary Fellow “Where have you been, John?” One member of our Friday foursome had not been around the golf club for a fortnight. No-one usually noticed him, apart from sensing the awesome power of his tee-shots, and the way they curved to the right to end up blocked out by some overhanging limb.   John himself was a mild and unassuming chap, polite and spectacle-wearing, with an average frame, who, like us all, had good days and bad, and who others might not even know without his cap. Even his surname was unremarkable. Still, he was always   there.…

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