So toady off we went – 18 Holes of Stableford bliss lay ahead. Day was fine weather-wise – it rained but the sun was thinking of shining and when the breeze stopped sliding in off the Barrow it was pleasant enough.
That said, one of my canny golfing companions had the only triple-glazed buggy on the planet. She was cozy warm and could get out, place ball, select club, practice swing, take exemplary shot, return club and be sat back down with doors closed in 45 ½ seconds. Impressive. As was her absolutely charming tendency to call out “Good Shot” from deep within her cocoon. The reverberations were borderline celestial and make even a somewhat moderately good shot sound miraculous. Heady praise indeed.
And, it provided for me on one occasion at least, a little bit of almost decent golf. There we were on the 15th. My usual entering-the-back-9-blues had lifted we were winding up for the home stretch. My 4th shot had a lucky ol’ bounce and fell onto the green, which was nice. My 5th shot and 1st putt was a wee tad over-hit (i.e. skidded straight past the hole and away off the other side of the green about 6’ into the roughy stuffy). And yet I recovered. I stayed with the putter, I lined it up carefully and I pendulumed hard enough to ring Big Ben. And the ball ran straight back up onto the green and into the hole where it belonged. Woo-Hoo.
I was just enjoying golfy feelings of warmth at my microscopic success (huge and monumental to me, of course) when I was told I’d won the 15th Hole so up I was to go first to tee off.
I wasn’t ready for that. Too much too soon. I avoided the river. I found the lake. I scratched the 16th. Back to earth with a tooth-shattering crash.
Perfect Balance & Equilibrium are key when
Golfing @ Garryhinch