Appropriate Arrow?

I'm hoping the sign at our local polling station is prophetic, rather than the ominous shadow of living in a Little Britain, isolated from the rest of Europe by a metaphorical iron-spiked fence.

The golf course, though soggy, had re-opened this morning allowing Henri and I to equal our course record, set a year ago to the day according to last year's blip, of two and a half hours for a round; the scores didn't break any records, sadly.