As I have pointed out before on this blog, over the twenty-five years I have lived at this address I have acquired four golf balls which I have occasionally and mysteriously appeared in my garden. (I keep them as ornaments I have found.) Today, while digging out some ill-advised bamboo I once planted, I dug up two more. I either have an untapped source of golf balls that will be easier to obtain than fracking, or their is a long-dead golfer buried in my garden.
Apparently, as a writer, I'm supposed to spend time thinking up this sort of weird stuff.