Ballast Bank Rules

Ballast Bank Rules

Part One

“How the fuck can you live in Ayrshire and not be into golf?”

He took a puff on his vape and filled the car with a mushroom cloud of strawberry vapor.

“Christ, Chubs,” moaned Eddie, opening a window from the passenger seat and trying to waft the vape cloud out.

“How the fuck can you drive like this?”

Chubs continued undaunted.

“St Andrews calls itself the home of golf, but over here in Ayrshire, you’ve got Prestwick. The first Open was held there; you’ve got famous courses at Troon. The Open was there last year. You’ve got about a million other courses, from pitch and putts to municipal courses.”

Eddie sighed.

“Ah, fuck that. That’s for the tourists, pal.”

Chubs’ face turned a little red.

“The fucking tourists? Listen, pal, it’s in the fucking air, it’s in your Ayrshire fucking soul. Down here, it comes from working-class roots.”

Eddie tried to hold back a laugh. “You’re talking shite pal’!”

“Alright, alright. Christ. Listen, you cut me off. So you’ve got these courses everyone knows, but you’ve got real courses too. Magic wee courses that are like finding buried treasure. Ones for the people, the real people that work all week.”

Eddie chuckled.

“Come on, Tae fuck, Chubs. You are having a fucking giraffe. I never realized I was living it up here in a socialist paradise utopia. I must have missed that. Let them eat cake… let them golf. Next thing you’ll be telling me is that the fucking royals are really a deep undercover working-class family from Saltcoats.”

Chubs snorted and put his foot down as they overtook an old couple in their Beamer.

Eddie tried to stifle a smile.

“Listen, pal, there are courses here built for normal people. You can go out and play for less than a football match at Ibrox or Celtic Park. You see families playing, groups of pals. It’s real, then in for a pint when you finish. I remember my da’ teaching me how to hit a shot, skipping onto the course so we didn’t have to pay. Watch out for the greenie.”

“Aye, he was a good man, your da. How long has that been now?”

“Three years since the cancer took him.”

There was silence for a moment.

Eddie looked out the window. “Did he ever play the big courses?”

“Nah, wasnae his style. He preferred the municipal courses.”

They both laughed.

“Here, I need to find a parking space,” muttered Chubs.

Part Two

The weather had turned by the time they parked.

They climbed the steps and looked out at the beach. The water. The rain coming down sideways.

Chubs sat on the bench in the shelter trying to catch his breath. Eddie watched a woman and her dog out on the sand in the distance before he turned to look at Chubs.

“You alright, pal?”

“Aye, man, of course I am.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows.

“Maybe fewer vapes and Greggs mate, a little more fresh air.”

Chubs looked up at his pal.

“Aye, alright, you cheeky bastard,” muttered Chubs as he tried to hand over the sausage roll wrapper from the kiosk. “What time are we teeing off?”

“We’ve got an hour.”

Chubs took the flask from his pocket.

“Got myself a cheeky dram or two in here,” he said as he took a swig.

An old couple walked by, dressed for monsoon weather on top of a hill in the Highlands. Eddie gave them a nod.

“Lovely day for it, eh?”

He looked back over the water.
“Hard to believe that this place was jammed with people at the weekend. How come we book a round and it’s pissing down?”

“What did you expect?” laughed Chubs. “It’ll be blue skies by the time we tee off. I checked it.”

“Aye, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was fucking snowing by the 19th. You remember that lassie from the pub last week, the blonde?”

“Aye, aye, see you and your women by the way, pal. I don’t know how you can keep up with them all.”

“What can I say, Chubs, it’s a gift.”

“I seen Jenni the other day. You guys ever talk” asked Chubs

Eddie grimaced a little.

“Naw man, that’s done. But it’s all good, I’m keeping busy’ he said as he forced a smile.

 “You ever get a name wrong and it all kicks off.”
“Ha, that’s why I call them all darling,” he laughed.

“Anyway, that wee darling sorted me out with some of this. rolled and ready to go, pal.”

“Aye, ya wee beauty, you’re some man, pal.”

They sat on the bench as Eddie produced a lighter and lit them up.
There was a moment or two of silence as they drew them in.

 “We’ll no see any polis down here; they’ve barely got enough to police a demonstration these days.”

“Aye, man, life’s good.”

 They sat back and listened, the rain and some lone seagulls. Time seemed to drift

Part Three

“Aw, fuck, here Eddie, mon. I think we’ve missed our tee time,” muttered Chubs.

The rain had started to clear, and there was a haze out on the water. At least Chubs thought it was. Eddie was sitting with a far-off look in his eye.

“Eddie… Ed.”

“What, what… oh… fuck aye, I think you’re right.”

“Oh, fuck, man, I was ready for a round.”

Chubs breathed out.

“Still, pal, it’s been a laugh.”

“Haud on, big man, it’s not lost yet. Give me the car keys.”
“What, what for?” A confused Chubs looked at him.

“Don’t be a fanny, just give me the keys.”

“Alright, alright. Here…” He reached into his pocket and threw the keys over.

Eddie disappeared, but what felt like moments later, he was back with four clubs and golf balls.

“Mon, let’s go. I’ve got an idea. This is going to be a real Ayrshire Open”

The clouds cleared and the sun was breaking through.

They walked round to the Ballast Bank, rising by the shoreline. It had been built to protect the harbour, but it now had benches and a view out across the water.

That’s how they ended up there, on top of Ballast Bank, a four iron and five iron in each hand and a bag of golf balls, teeing up and aiming out over the Firth of Clyde.

 Eddie hit a slice.

“That one’s ending up on Barassie Beach,” laughed Chubs.

“Your old dad would have loved this pal, well that or he’d have said we were off our heads”  

“Aye, no doubt about it. Off our heads” smiled Chubs.

“Just like old times pal,” laughed Eddie as he teed another one up.

Chubs shook his head, grinning.

Ballast Bank Rules.