Tread gently beneath the fragile fanlight

With its curving carved ribs

framing rippling glass

Glance up to the Venetian arch with its Canaletto morning sky

And the uncoiled mahogany staircase

Treads echoing to the creak and clatter of murmurous ghosts

Peel the plaster skin from the wall

Withies within, woven by dead fingers

Stiff reeds droop with the stilled pro...

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They’ve identified our golf club

for returning to the wild

It’s to become a verdant Eden 

For every adult, dog and child

A place of natural splendour

Where no groundsmen smoke or hunker

Sheltering from the elements in the deeper fairway bunkers

No more Pringle sweaters in pink and blue and grey

No more Captain’s Prize and no more Ladies’ Day

No more midweek medals o...

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