The morning was sunny, clear and carrying just a smidgeon of Autumnal freshness as a mighty dozen of us descended on the 10a.m. Ladies’ draw. I was in the second 3-ball with two Lovely Lady M’s – M1 and M-eile. Away we went with smiling faces and happy hearts and all three of us remained scratch-free for the first two holes. Yowzah…
But, before any ego or vanity could take over and ruin our golf, I rectified matters by wedging my second shot on the Par 3 Third into a bunker. A bunker wherein the ball remained for 3 more shots. And one putt is very rarely quite enough for me – itching begins, alas.
Upon the 4th, Lovely Lady M1 became the victim of an unfortunate bounce and her ball also became bunker-bound. She hit a perfect and magnificent shot out of the bunker. So magnificent was it that the ball jumped straight into the opposite bunker just to experience that miraculous flying sensation all over again. Out again she hit and managed to find the hole while the scoring of points was still an option. Utterly admirable bunker tennis to be sure.
My bunker fear lingered on the 5th, when a simple little pitchy shotty thingy became a terrifying barrier because the bunker was there in my way. I did avoid the bunker and end up on the edge of the green, although I utilised the slightly unorthodox method of raising my head and skimming the ball along the edge of the bunker using the good ol’ trusty “toe of the club” shot.
We carried on, all down to our short sleeves with the benevolent sun rays upon us. My excruciatingly disastrous drive (EDD) on the 10th brought about offers of post-round tuition (probably in case I hurt someone with the next one…). I was honoured and then worried that I would be considered rude and inconsiderate when I drove fairly competently for the rest of the round. I enjoyed happiness at the hitting of moderately good shots. And I suffered the murky depths of mortification at the thought that I had maybe broken one of the ten million secret rules. You know the ones – undiscussed yet the cause of potentially fatal offence. Kept the ol’ head down and the ol’ mouth shut for all while and all seemed good..
Upon the 12th Lovely Lady M1 gave on to me an apple (terribly kind, as bananas and I do not get on). Delicious it was, but I encountered a couple of wee problems (me? problems?? NEVER!!). One – an apple is a delicious, crispy and bloody noisy to consume piece of fruit. Two – holding an half-eaten apple in your mouth a la suckling pig while taking a shot is not the wisest. Three – perching half eaten apple on the (hopefully) cleanest part of golf bag attracts homicidal, near-death wasps. Four – my hat looks just like a dying wasps last supper.
Lovely apple though.
The 18th was upon us so quickly ‘twas borderline unreal. I felt the usual emotion – combo of disappointment that the round was ending so soon and heart-warming relief that the round was finally ending. Lovely Lady M-eile drove the 18th using a 5 iron. My happiness at my reasonable drive was extinguished by the glorious flight of her ball straight and true past where mine had landed. It is such a long trek and pilgrimage to the Land of Good Golf.
Summer still alive & kickin’ when
Golfing @ Garryhinch…