Sunday the 29th of August, 1971.

Since the year's turn, Britain had seen eight months of chaos.

With postal workers on strike, Rolls Royce in bankruptcy, Northern Ireland a political

powder keg, elected racist Enoch Powell still banging on about the rivers of blood,

unemployment at its highest level since the end of the Second World War.

And yet the most talked about news story was bad boy show jumper Harvey Smith,

being stripped of his medal for flicking a V sign at the judges.

The country was full of strikes, riots and protests,

as the rich got richer and the poor got poorer.

But in Leatherhead, 16 miles south of London, everything was tranquil.

As 47-year-old groundskeeper Norman Stones kept the greens and fairways of Leatherhead Golf Club pristine and immaculate.

With 15 years under his belt, Norman kept to a strict routine.

He'd state,

As the greenkeeper's hut is close to the tenth hole bunker,

I finished up my weekend duties,

arrived at the bunker at 7.40 a.m.,

I raked it over, and I finished off the 10th green.

Been two hours after dawn, the club was opening in minutes, and with the weather predicted

to be 26 degrees with barely any wind. The course that day would be busy.

On the front crest of the centre of the bunker, I found lying there, a bone, about 18 inches

long, which was covered in dirt. I recall it having a knuckle at one end and a smaller

knuckle at the other. Having been stripped of meat, cartilage and skin, with the ends gnawed, as a hungry beast had feasted on the juicy marabone inside.

...