Tralfador Flemmingstock And with laboured breath, Tralfador Flemmingstock rose from the green, lined his shot and swung. Luck, he thought, was on his side today. His mind, not so much. His thoughts betrayed him. Shifting his red and green tweed hat, his breast swelled and he let out a honk. He was but a goose after-all. “Tender as ever Tralfador” turning he saw the gaggle waddling over. Ralph Berkingeorge, fitted-in long patterned socks and hat, continued “Although it seems, my friend, you’ve lost your touch! Is there something on your mind?” His query loaded with inferrance and a cheeky grin…