Golfers – Sandy Taylor, Bill Doerr and I went to play golf at the local club one Saturday afternoon. Sandy and I had never been on a golf course, never-mind playing on one, so poor Doerr was in for a surprise. Doerr finally left the golf link in complete disgust and, childishly, he wouldn’t speak to us for a couple of days. Cohort Sandy and I told him that we had played for years and we supposed that he would soon realize our joke. With big bruising Sandy digging holes all over the place, and with me continuously looking for my golf ball, I never knew how many players Doerr waved though, but I did know that I was sick of the game at the last hole; hole No. 3.
Wooden Nickels – My doubtful contribution to the Prince Albert lot was that I found that if one could grind down the plugs from the holes of the electrical junction boxes being installed in the new buildings going up, the plugs could be used in the juke box at the little recreational centre on the Station. I never gave up my little secret, and I was a regular Beau Brummel right up until the electrical work gave out.
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