Last Friday, the Rabbits assembled en-masse for their annual general meeting. So great were the numbers the clubhouse could not cope and the overspill were found in Bar One, Bar Two and the Billiard Room. Tannoys were needed to convey the words, feelings and emotions.

Glyn Price, the outgoing captain, all spick and span in regalia, welcomed the multitude. As he reported, the Rabbits society were a vibrant body, with applications for membership far exceeding the vacancies.

And with his power of office he called on all new members to introduce themselves. This was an ordeal for some, but the first, a Mr. Christopher Smith, an Arnold Schwarzenegger look-a-like in stature, admitted to county experience, and a youth handicap of one. Others pointed to past Ryder Cup status.

Well, the outgoing captain, so full of modesty, reported on a tremendous success in the Three Counties League. Top of the league and guaranteed promotion to Division One. For football fans this is the premiership, for golf fans this is the pinnacle of golf, Atlanta, St. Andrews and South Pembs.

Nobody knows how they did this, but Glyn Price took credit for leadership and everything associated with success. Though his insistence this year on a T-total regime may have been the answer.

He gloried in the recovery of the Tom McLean Snuff Box, an annual affair against Ashburnham, a very top team.

"We slaughtered them this year, four and three!"

But overall it had been a happy year, full of souls who though brilliant at golf were more contented with family life than the ribboned coat of glory.

A special award was made for 'Rabbit of the Year' and it was no surprise that the fluid-swinging M. K. Munro was called to the podium. Lloyds Bank, many years ago, presented this magnificent trophy for golfers who had made an impact at international level, but who had not forgotten their roots. Thus this dream of Aberdeen and hero of Bannockburn took the golden shield.

Since then he can be seen parading his trophy through Penally village, award held high, shouting "I won." The builders are in, constructing a trophy room extension to his mansion.

There was, then, the most abominable presentation of accounts. Marsden, who thinks he is the bees knees, declared a profit of 37p. Told everyone he was a genius. Then wished to record his admiration for our sister society, the Divots - he was booed off stage.

There was then a break for refreshments. A stampede directed at the bar.

Secretary Stephen Cole mopped up the spillage. He is a martyr amongst men. Pity the outgoing captain did not mop us the spilling himself, for it was his elbow - "the elbow of success." Just a pity our secretary has changed his job, from Interpol to ice-cream licences. We shall miss him. He has kept the Rabbits within a constitution over two long years. He has been a massive presence.

The drinks interval was swift, frothing and quenching.

A new captain was elected, Ronald Fraser-Murphy. You know, a scion of the Mountbatten-Murphys, of Kent.

With left hand in pocket he rose. Brandishing a Peter Stuyvesant with the other, he looked good. But what he said was nostalgic. He referred to James Braid, even Louis XIV and Edward (I forget the number, but he who had the Wallace Simpson problem). And so we have a modern captain, full of the dreams of yesteryear, and he was cheerful. Oh, by the way, in retrospect, it was he who declared that drinks would be on the house that night. His was a popular move.

There were elections. Stephen Price, a goldfish amongst the sprats, is to be vice-captain.

The clubhouse roof lifted in acclamation.

Stephen Harries was already collecting subs in joy and penance as the new treasurer.

The committee this year would be enriched by Colin Smith (good on nuclear physics), Marsden (good at nothing), and M. K. Munro, still to be seen parading his trophy through Penally's streets broad any narrow, "I won."

Then the draw for the winter league:

The pairings are: George Pegg and Dorian Thomas; Peter Watkins and Stephen Harries; C. P. Marsden and J. J. Murphy; Big Dave Morgan and M. K. Munro; Colin Smith and Paul Greenwood; Dave Moran and Rees Davies; Stephen Price and Phil Watkins; Stephen Bennett and John Hunt; The Great Tom McLean and Brian Dooley; Derek Farley and Bud French; Steve Watkins and Anthony Allen; Fred Adlam and Bill Beynon; Glyn Price and Chris Smith; Ben Blake and Jonathan Broome; Richard Caley and Jason Rolphe; Ron Murphy and Paul Davies.

The golf world is hushed. Everybody awaits. It all starts Sunday, October 26, at 9 am. Couldn't be better, for it is Stephen Harries's 60th birthday. Everyone will be paralytic on the 19th we were told.