I was very tired that night. I had been on the go all day. So much so that I looked out of the window and realised that not only had I fallen asleep but I had missed my bus stop. Sleepily I got up, dragged my bags and got off at the next stop. Oh Lord! Why now? It’s pouring. I’m tired, I need the toilet. It’s dark. And I’ve got a longer than normal walk home. As I dragged my unwilling feet along the pavement I spied a mountain. I suddenly woke up, There in front of me was the contents of someone’s flat. Treasures. Everyone who knows me, know that I ‘collect things’. Anything. People, books, magazines, clothes, food, anything. I then redistribute them to Shirley’s Tribe – my band of merry/wo/men, homelss, disabled, disadvantaged, who get invited / taken to places they wouldn’t otherwise be invited/taken. I practise the bit in the bBible about housing the homeless, feeding the hungry, clothing the naked. So I thought of the tribe and walked towards the mountain and there at the top in all it’s glory was – the Golf Bag. I already had 3 or 4 bags of my own but I just couldn’t resist the challenge. I dragged it off the mountain and carried it a few yards before I decided that it had wheels and was quite capable of carrying itself; with a bit of a pull, a hand perhaps, from me. When I got home I manouvered it through the cluttered doorway and put it, on top of the mountain I’d already made in the living room. It looked good. Long and blue. sitting waiting for its’ fate. Who did it belong to? Why was it thrown out? Had the owner died? If it could talk what would it say? I text my friend, a keen lefthanded golfer. “got a surprise 4 u. catch u 2morro.” Next morning I went to look at my latest acquisition. It looked lovely in the day. I looked in all the pockets. OH No! No-one had left their life savings in the bag. I took out the sticks, irons and counted the balls. Weeks later, my friend dropped me home and I pulled the golf bag off the mountain and dragged his surprise down the drive to his waiting car. He wasn’t the least excited. I had to ask some time later, “Have you looked at the golf set? How much is it worth?” I’m left-handed," he said, “it’s no use to me.” Yes but how much is it worth." I repeated. “Oh, about £60”, he replied. £60 that we, the tribe, could have spent on icecream or gone away for the day. ! I’d given it away to someone who couldn’t see the potential.


Shirley Cooper (B)Lake

Birmingham, United Kingdom

  • Artist
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Artist's Description

What happens when you find a golf bag?

Artwork Comments

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