The smoked salmon was placed neatly, atop the piled prawns in Marie Rose sauce
The son drank Guinness, sat beside his father, who chose a cocktail and a club sandwich
The girls (women) had a group photograph taken, charmingly, by the pleased to be invited gentleman
The car park didn’t reflect the clientele which the establishment might have hoped for, not a Maserati in sight
Odd to have built such a thing, to have let loose a constrained gothic architect, on the wild Atlantic coast
This is one memory, made on the very same day when many more memories will be made
There will be drives that sail majestically, straight as a dye, long ways down the fairway
