Tim, the club secretary, stood at the entrance to the range brandishing his whistle. “Welcome back everybody,” he said. “It’s good to see you all here again. Happy Christmas, happy new year, happy Easter…”
“Happy birthday!” a voice chimed in. “And happy birthday for whenever,” Tim added, chuckling. “Right, I don’t even know if this thing still works. Remind me, how many times am I supposed to blow it?”
His whistle technique was a tad rusty, but he managed to get two blasts out of it to signify that for the first time in more than three months the club’s range was open for business.
To me at least, it felt like a miniature historic occasion; the club’s first session at the end of what the government hopes will be…
