I let him play the first couple of holes before asking the all-important question. “You’re the first I’ve had from Grant’s Quarry,” I began. “Any more to come?”

“Dozens,” Alec replied.

“So when can I expect them?”

“When we can afford it,” said Alec. We had reached his ball just short of the green and he was undecided whether to pitch or putt. “When you consider the air fare and the accommodation, each training session costs around £800.”

I let him pitch and watched his ball come to rest about ten feet from the flag.

“Nicely done,” I said – then went for broke. “Instead of everybody coming to us - why not invite me to come to you?”

“That might work,” he thought, lining up his putt. It came up two feet short.

Close enough. “Pick it up.” Sometimes, a little generosity pays dividends.

“Would Russell agree?” he asked.

“Most likely, he’d be thrilled to bits,” I told him. “I’m always on the road. Last month, it was Norwich - and before that, it was Northern Ireland.”

And that effectively sealed the arrangement. After that, we concentrated on our game until the gathering gloom forced to head for the lights in the distant clubhouse windows.

“How did it go?” asked Carrie when I finally made it home.

“Promising,” I replied. “He’s definitely interested.”

“What’s it worth to us?” she wanted to know.

“If they buy it, quite a lot,” I told her. “Plus expenses.”

Next morning, I reported to Russell.

“Sounds a good idea,” he said. “I’ll have a word with their training manager.”

He must have kept his promise. Two weeks later, I was on my way to Scotland.