I'm seeking confirmation, but I understand the only place the seat could be placed, without fear of damage or theft, was a spot in the women's changing rooms, which - he says with a grin - I'm sure my old golfing mate would have enjoyed immensely even if it were just for a couple of days before he was restored to the outside splendour of his particular patch of golf course.
On Tuesday I found myself out in the country for work where I was to visit a client who is somewhat hard of hearing.
As expected from my last visit some six months ago, he did not answer the front door. I knew he worked from an office at the rear so I made my way down the path to the back door as I had done last time.
Trouble was the trees that had been threatening to block my path on my previous visit had grown a bit foliage wise, and were now doing a good job at impeding my progress in places.
I was probably only 3m from the back door when a stray branch, there may have been two or three, decided to grab me and turn me round whereupon I fell backwards into the bark garden.
Initially, I thought I might have been concussed, but as I made out the blurry shape of the client staring down at me, I realised the tree had robbed me of my balance AND my glasses.
Luckily, the client had heard the racket and come out to see what was going on. He'd spotted my glasses on the ground and handed them back to save me the embarrassment of having to scramble round on my hands and knees looking for them.
And he took pity on me when our business was concluded, showing me out through the front door rather than subjecting me to another go at the gauntlet of trees down the back path.
The good news is I'm pretty sure he won't forget me in a hurry.
On Thursday I happened to bump into Dave the DIYer who was loading his ute with timber palings for a new wood shed his wife has insisted be built.
It seems Dave the DIYer was finally getting round to taking out the pesky tree that shaded his house progressively more each year and which was now throwing all sorts of debris into his gutters.
So, it had to go. By royal decree. Or rather by the decree of the ruler of his house. Not Dave.
Anyway.
Mrs Dave had also decided it would be a good idea to build a new woodshed so Dave could immediately stack and store the wood from the tree he was taking out. Dave begrudgingly accepted this was actually a good idea.
Obviously, Mrs Dave also knew there was potential for the fallen tree to be lying around the lawn for some time until Dave got around to it. (Sound familiar ladies?) So, she'd insisted a new shed be built to be used immediately the tree was felled.
I wished Dave well in his endeavours and thought nothing more of it until Saturday morning when I bumped into him for a second time. Again he was loading wood palings onto his ute.
Naturally, I inquired how the project was all going.
It turns out Dave had, in fact, built his new woodshed and had basked in some satisfying glory and praise from Mrs Dave upon its completion. It was, she said, just what she'd wanted. Tidy. Out of the way and all ready for the new wood, which was to follow the next morning.
The wood did arrive on site, but not in the way she had imagined.
Apparently, Dave's chainsawing prowess did not match his enthusiasm – or his aim - and the tree came down right through the middle of his new woodshed.
Mrs Dave had sent him back to get more timber to build another one.
