Page 13 - PBCOctober2018

Pickwick Bicycle Club Magazine Volume 15 No.2 October 2018 @13

Vice-Captain, Mr Dumkins adds his comments;

“A warm but overcast day saw the ‘usual suspects’ turn up for the annual Pickwick Golf Day at
Harpenden Golf Club. After fuelling up with hot coffee and bacon butties, we duly tee’d off
at 5 minute intervals, in a pair, a threesome, and three 4balls. The amazingly well kept course
and immaculate fast running greens proved to be as challenging as ever, but fun and banter
was rife. Unfortunately there was no parallel cycling event this year due to only riders
showing interest and the absence of Justice Stareleigh - but it is hoped it will be better
supported next year. After a great day on the course we repaired to the bar for
refreshment, and convivial conversation about the shots that got away, and then to enjoy as
usual, the exceptional 5-course luncheon, followed by the presentation of trophies before
heading for home”

Mr Dumkins/Paddy Green

The Front Cover - Chapter XXXV

In which Mr Pickwick thinks he had better go to Bath; And goes accordingly.

“ You’re a sweet pet, my love,” replied Mrs Colonel Wugsby, tapping her daughter’s cheek
with her fan, “ and are always to be trusted. He’s immensely rich, my dear. Bless you!” With
these words, Mrs Colonel Wugsby kissed her eldest daughter most affectionately, and
frowning in a warning manner upon the other, sorted her cards.

Poor Mr. Pickwick! He had never played with three thorough-paced female card-players
before. They were so desperately sharp, that they quite frightened him. If he played a
wrong car, Miss Bolo looked a small armoury of daggers: if he stopped to consider which was
the right one, Lady Snuphanuph would throw her –self back in the chair, and smile with a
mingled glance of impatience and pity to Mrs Colonel Wugsby; at which point Mrs Colonel
Wugsby would shrug her shoulders, and cough, as much as to say she wondered if he would
ever begin. Then, at the end of every hand, Miss Bolo would inquire with a dismal countenance
and reproachful sigh, why Mr Pickwick had not returned the diamond, or led the club, or
roughed the spade, or finessed the heart, or led through the honour, or brought out the ace,
or played up to the king, or some such thing; and in reply to all these grave charges, Mr
Pickwick would be wholly unable to plead any justification whatever; having by this time
forgotten all about the game.