by Brian Alford
And so it was at Barndem. Surreptitiously and without attracting notice, items of underwear began to disappear from the ladies locker room. The disappearance would not have been noticed had the lady captain not been the victim of two losses in the same week. Lucy was not a careless woman and though she was prepared to concede to an occasional lapse of careless, twice in one week was definitely not a possibility to be entertained. In the manner that befitted her character blunt inquiries by Lucy to other lady members quickly revealed that something was definitely amiss. A notice appeared in the bar proclaiming the presence at Barndem of a knicker thief and threatening terrible reprisals if the culprit did not desist immediately.
At first it was treated as a joke, a source of much mocking amongst the male members. To the foolish member who tried to point out that a knicker thief meant the same thing Lucy gave short shrift. But as the thefts continued the worrying feeling began to grow that the perpetrator could be dangerous. Despite threats and the public acknowledgment that the presence of the thief was known, his activities continued. The odd item of clothing was one thing but when it ran into numbers in excess of forty items things began to look serious. Sniffing Tom had more than a mild fetish he had a positively unhealthy obsession.
It was not long before the time for positive action arrived. Something had to be done to stop the menace. A rota was established by the ladies to maintain a constant vigil in the locker room but this had no effect; items continued to vanish. It seemed that the thief was able to come and go unnoticed and as everyone acknowledged it only took a second to grab an item of clothing. The duty security guard could not be expected to concentrate every second of the day, and there were of course necessary comfort breaks to be taken, however brief.
More drastic action was needed, or rather, more subtle action. A scheme was devised to plant desirable items of clothing laced with aniseed. It was hoped this ploy would be two-edged. It was hoped that the smell would detract from the perverse pleasure of Sniffing Tom and so deter his activities Failing that it was hoped that the characteristic smell would give the culprit away. It was the continued suspicion of the ladies that the perpetrator was one of the Barndem male members. What they could not decide was whether it was a practical joke or a genuinely sick mind. In either event it became a common, if puzzling sight to see lady members wandering round Barndem sniffing intently especially when a male colleague passed. So noticeable was this trait that the male members were beginning to suspect that some gender oriented bug was sweeping through the club and infecting all the lady members. More sensitive souls took to showering more regularly and applying liberal portions of deodorant.
Fate has a strange and cruel sense of humour. There are events and happenings which to all intents and purposes are coincidental. However the occurrences of such coincidences defies the laws of random chance. Most people strive for a regulated and fairly predictable life. The brain can only cope with so much change and uncertainty and needs the majority of our daily lives to be mundane and predictable. But by its very nature fate is disruptive and unpredictable.
It just so happened that at that particular moment fate decided to interfere in the preciously regulated lives of Vic, Bill, Bob and Henry. Seated in their coveted corner of the bar the conversation quite naturally centred on the topic of the hour, sniffing Tom. Vic was particularly concerned since Lucy had been bending his ear for suggestions as to what to do next. Quite why she should have been asking Vic he could not understand, but it was a relief to know that she did not suspect him. It seemed that almost everyone was under suspicion and this was breeding much ill feeling.
“What about this sniffer then, it’s a bit worrying isn’t it?”
Bill was trying to attract steward Colin’s attention. “You’ve got nothing to worry about, he’s only after women’s clothes.”
“All the same its still worrying having some lunatic on the loose.”
Colin grinned and nodded in the direction of his adversary. “You put up with Henry.”
At that moment, Henry was opening a small paper bag and showing the contents to Bob. Henry had little patience at the best of times and found it hard work talking to Bob. In frustration he shouted as Bob peered curiously into the bag. “Balls!”
Startled Bill turned to Henry. “I beg your pardon?”
Henry closed the bag and dumped it on the bar. “I said balls. Bob was just asking me what I was eating and I said aniseed balls.”
Vic smiled mockingly. “I haven’t had those since I was a kid. I always suspected you were just a little boy Henry.”
Bill was also amused. “Its one of his last comforts in life, you know, a sort of surrogate for thumb sucking.”
Henry slid grumpily off his stool, his disposition having something to do with the fact that Bill was still having no success attracting Colin’s attention. “Pee off you lot.” It was remarkable how Henry’s insults, indeed the general tone of his conversation closely paralleled his bodily functions. This last remark was made as he sidled off towards the toilet.
Bobs thoughts had been somewhere other than aniseed balls. “How do you know its a man?”
As ever Bill was prepared to risk entering the wandering world of Bob’s thoughts. “How do we know what’s a man?”
“The sniffer, how do you know its a man? It could be a woman.”
“Why would a woman want to steal other women’s underwear?”
“There’s some very funny women about these days. Why couldn’t a woman get excited sniffing another woman’s underwear? Its all a question of hormones. Hormones come out in our sweat and perhaps a lexicon would be turned on by, well you know…”
Not untypically Bob had embarrassed himself and stuttered to a halt, a situation that Bill always found funny. “What’s a lexicon, some sort of Irish underwear sniffer?”
Bob just blushed a muted response. They were entering realms of conversation he would rather avoid especially as Lucy was approaching. Despite the strain the sniffing Tom was putting on her, she was outwardly her usual jovial self. “Good afternoon gentlemen.” As the three men politely greeted the lady captain she looked curiously around. “There seems to be something missing here.”
Bill pointed exaggeratedly at the empty bar stool recently vacated by Henry. “Trouble’s gone to answer the call of the wild.”
While nodding an acknowledgment of the reply Lucy sat on the vacant stool. It was not that she was tired, it was just that she could not resist upsetting Henry who would be distraught on his return to find his stool occupied. As she sat on the stool Lucy began sniffing. There was something vaguely familiar in the air. After a few more loud and exaggerated sniffs she stood up and marched off in the direction of the locker room.
Vic and Bill exchanged looks and Vic spoke what was on both their minds. “What was that all about?”
“No idea”. Bill shrugged his shoulders and returned to the seemingly fruitless task of trying to order some drinks. The three men sat in frustrated silence waiting for Colin to notice them. Well, Vic and Bill were frustrated, Bob was still meditating on deeper things
Colin had been embroiled in deep conversation with two of lady members for some time. It would not have been difficult to guess the content of the conversation and some of the gestures added considerable weight to the supposition. As Bill and Vic watched one of the lady players brought her hand down on the bar with a blow similar to a karate chop. The significance became apparent as Colin shuffled his legs together in an awkward knock-kneed pose and a pained expression appeared on his face.
Though not a man of many words Bob did not enjoy silence and in such moments always felt compelled to air the thoughts that swam around constantly in his head. “They could stop wearing them.”
Shaking his head to break the half trance they had all been sitting in Bill peered even more intently at the distant Colin. “Now what are you talking about?”
“Undergarments. If all the women stopped wearing them, there would be nothing to
steal. After all some of them burned their bras didn’t they? And lots of them have those all in one things, sort of modern day liberty bodices. You know the ones that button under, and you don’t need to wear, well you know. Its odd that, how these women want to go back to wearing something that their grandmothers were glad to throw away.”
“You seem to be rather an expert on the subject of female underwear Bob.”
“Can’t get away from it can you?”
“I never knew you were that way inclined Bob.”
“I meant that its in all the newspapers and magazines. Women wearing nothing but skimpy underwear. You’ve got to feel a little bit sorry for someone who flips in the face of so much bare-faced illustration haven’t you? Its sort of jumps out at you all the time, you can’t avoid it.”
“Do you actually mean bare faced or bare something else?”
“Well this illustrates my point doesn’t it? Here we are talking about ladies underwear. We would never have dreamed of talking about such a thing once upon a time. I mean, its not a polite thing for gentlemen to talk about in public is it?”
“You brought the subject up.”
“No I didn’t. We were talking about the sniffing Tom.” Bob felt he was getting himself into deep water once again and decided to change the subject. “Henry’s been a long time. Do you think he’s alright?”
The dramatic answer to Bobs question came bursting instantly through the lounge door as Henry was dragged in by Lucy and two other lady members. “Let you go you stupid…”
His tirade was interrupted by a sharp kick on the shin from Lucy. “You call me a stupid fat old bitch once more and I will not be responsible for my actions.”
“Well let me go then you stupid…”
Another kick on the other leg sent Henry crashing to the floor in pain. Vic and Bill raced over to the doorway where the prostrate Henry sat nursing his sore legs while the three women cowered over him. Vic stood between Lucy and the fallen Henry. “What is going on?”
Lucy pointed angrily at Henry. “We caught this thing trying to sneak into our locker room.”
“I was not trying to sneak into your locker room. It was a mistake. Damned doors look the same to me.”
In fact it was a mistake many had made. The doors to the two locker rooms were adjacent and unmarked. The lack of any marking was a hangover from the chauvinist days when the men staunchly refused to recognise the existence of the women members. If they did not exist then there was no need for any signs. Unfortunately this dogma had meant many male members had absent mindedly wandered into the ladies locker room.
Lucy was persistent. “Perhaps. Then what about the smell?”
“Are you being bloody personal? You bloody women have been walking around with your noses stuck in the air sniffing for weeks. I do not smell.”
“I don’t mean your personal problem I mean the aniseed smell. You reek of it.”
Henry started sniffing himself . “Aniseed? I don’t reek of aniseed. I had a couple of balls earlier on but that was ages ago. Ask Bob, I showed him the bag.” His faced then flushed in annoyance. “What personal problem?”
Lucy turned to Bob. “Is this true?”
“Yes, I….”
Lucy was not interested in any further explanation. “Oh, I see.” A short silence followed while the implications of what had happened sunk in. Lucy and her companions bent down to help Henry to his feet. “My dear chap I am most terribly sorry. How can I possibly apologise?”
A gesture by Bill caught Lucy’s attention. The upward motion to his face of his cupped right hand was a clear enough sign. “Let me buy you a drink.”
Once again could be observed the miraculous transformation of Henrys countenance when a free drink was mentioned. Carefully he was supported by Lucy as he limped painfully towards the bar and clambered gingerly onto the bar stool.
The commotion had finally interrupted Colin’s intense conversation and he returned to serving the waiting customers. In her anxiety Lucy mistakenly ordered drinks for everyone, but having made the mistake she felt disinclined to rescind the eagerly accepted offer. A drink from the lady captain was a rarity to be savoured, especially when your shins are hurting.
Finishing the unexpected and therefore all the more welcome drink, Bill drew a deep breath and rubbed his lips purposefully. He could sense the opportunity for some small revenge for the humiliation of the 40D Cup. “You know Henry, it strikes me that what these three ladies have done to you amounts to assault. Could even be grievous bodily harm. How are you shins by the way? Think you’ll be able to walk properly? You don’t think there’s any permanent damage perhaps?”
Henry rubbed his sore legs. “They’re bloody sore. Stupid fat…”
Bill nudged Henry sharply in the ribs and whispered in his ear. “Don’t push your luck we’re on to something here.” Clearing his throat his raised his voice. “We’re all gentlemen here aren’t we Henry? I’m sure we can come to some arrangement. A sort of out of court settlement you might say.”
Renown battler though she was Lucy never wasted her energy on a cause she could not win. “Mm.. what did you have in mind? Though understand I’m admitting nothing. He was being extremely offensive and I refuse to elaborate on where he grabbed me during our little misunderstanding.”
Bill frowned disapprovingly at Henry. “Well, I’m sure Henry meant no offence. After all when you’re being set on by three mad women you don’t stop to check the proprieties of what you are grabbing. Isn’t that right Henry?”
“Bloody right.” Henry continued to rub his shins to lend emphasis to whatever Bill was plotting.
“So what would compensate your generous magnanimity Henry?”
Henry was lost. “What?”
Bill raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Give me strength. If Lucy were prepared to offer you compensation for you injury what would you accept?”
Henry though hard. “A million quid. Oh, and a bottle of Scotch, no, a case of Scotch, two cases of Scotch.”
Once again Bill whispered in Henry’s ear. “I’ll kick you on the bloody shins in a moment.”
Lucy was becoming irritated with the conversation and was anxious to get away. There was after all still the problem of the real sniffer. “I tell you what, I’ll buy you a bottle of Scotch and you’ll have to accept an IOU for the million pounds.”
When it came to drink Henry had one simple philosophy: take the money and run. “OK. Done.”
“And we’ll hear no more of this unfortunate incident then?”
“My word as a gentleman.”
Lucy was doubtful. “That gives me no peace of mind at all but I suppose I’ll have to settle for it.”
For once and despite his discomfort Henry seemed well pleased with life as Lucy negotiated with Colin for a shiny, brand new, un-opened bottle of whisky. Its arrival saw his face beam with pleasure while his stomach gurgled with dreadful anticipation.
As Lucy departed to consult with her fellow sufferers she turned to address Henry. “By the way. Please desist from eating aniseed balls for a while. We don’t want any more upsets. Oh yes and the same goes for drinking Pernod.”
Following this unfortunate incident it was decided that garments baited with aniseed were not such a good idea and the plan was dropped. As a last resort the women’s locker room was closed and the women members forced to arrive changed ready to play and return home following their game. Though an awkward inconvenience it seemed the only way to prevent the activities of sniffing Tom. In the event it proved very effective for when after two weeks the locker room was re-opened to test the water there were no further thefts.
So the offender was never caught but to the great relief of Barndem ladies his activities had ceased. Possibly they continued elsewhere at another club or any place where ladies gathered to change their clothing. There were indeed reports in the local paper of problems in one of the large department stores in the nearby town. Apparently women shoppers were losing certain deli
cate items while trying clothes on in the fitting rooms of ladies fashion department. Whatever happened to Sniffing Tom, for Barndem at least he (or she) had become someone elses problem. Aside from the discomfort of knowing there was a strange man creeping about there was the damned inconvenience of having to replace the stolen items of clothing, especially when shopping itself was full of dangers. Nothing fits as comfortably as an old garment. Perhaps Sniffing Tom knew this more than most.
That was not quite the end of the story of Sniffing Tom for there was at Barndem a perpetual memorial to his activities. His presence had caused deep concern amongst the lady players. It was far to easy for strangers to come and go at Barndem and there was little recourse for help if needed. It was decided that an alarm bell would be fitted in the lounge with several panic buttons placed strategically in the women’s locker room. The bell came to be known euphemistically as the rape bell by the women, or Sniffing Tom’s Tinkler by the men. It is a sad reflection of today’s society that the decision was also made to install a panic alarm in the mens locker room. Even Barndem could not escape the realities of the world outside. There are some strange people about of both genders, ask Henry.
15
Away Day
There is comfort in the familiarity of home turf. In familiar surroundings the mind can relax shed of the responsibility of having to concentrate and assimilate a plethora of new information. The inanimate takes on a character and personality to which the mind can relate. Trees become familiar friends or despised enemies dependent upon the vagaries of the golf shot. Humps and hollows on the greens become as familiar as the walk from garden gate to front door. Tricky decisions like which side of the fairway to aim for and which club to use become automatic. Most of the complexities of the game are made easier. Less brain power is required to achieve the same result. And in general less physical effort is required.
But just occasionally, very, occasionally, an overwhelming sense of boredom sets in when the familiar becomes tedious and tiresome. When such a feeling strikes the beloved game loses its appeal. There is only one answer to this malaise, a visit to another course. Fresh pastures lead to a fresh mind or more likely, fresh pasture leads to a renewed appreciation of home pastures. This is especially true if the away experience has been traumatic; if the vagaries of the new course prove too frustrating.