Yesterday, I found myself in the peculiar paradoxical position of writing this retrospectively in advance. Last week, work and the Spring Tournament combined to put me a week behind, while today I was supposed to be playing in the Orbell Cup, which due to the ridiculous amount of rain we got, was cancelled due to concerns about more senior members rusting (I'm guessing that last bit). Anyway, moving along in chronological order, I must firstly offer my congratulations again to all of the winners at last weeks Spring Tournament, which took place in glorious sunshine and light breezes that still did plenty to disrupt a lot of golfers, myself included. The course was in great condition (my thanks to all the volunteers) with tough rough that penalised the slightest wayward shot (any chance of a first cut of semi-rough please?), and hard greens that are getting that little bit faster. Other notable points of interest - Mr Schrader clearly escaped the not-so-watchful eye of Mrs Schrader and came out in his lime green white/brown checked shorts combo again, an outfit that I fear may now be being seen as some sort of source of pride. To be fair, the loudest shirt award goes to Mike Flynn for his muted Hawaiian number on Sunday - I am slightly concerned that I thought it was a nice shirt. There were a lot of tired golfers on Sunday, and that was reflected in a lot of the high scores. My group was behind the overnight leaders, Dup and Garrick, who struggled, and even managed to challenge Jimmy's score on no 15 (sorry, Jimmy, he was unsuccessful). Watching from behind, it was the type of round we have all had where just nothing went right and our hearts went out to him in sympathy. A special mention to Barry on Wednesday shooting below his age (again), Barrie's current run of form couldn't rescue us last Sunday, but to be fair, that was probably more down to me So yesterday, I was sitting at my desk looking out at the pouring rain, that prior to the confirmation phone call, was proving that the golfing gods have a cruel sense of humour. I have been looking forward to playing at Christchurch Golf Club for a while now, and I was looking forward to playing back in September before bl*#*y Covid intervened, and then last weekends glorious weather promised much as did yesterday with one of the hottest days of the year. Yet, the weather here has all the consistency of your average politician, and the forecast had been stubbornly stuck on rain, with a side of more rain. I was mentally preparing myself for another round walking stooped under my golf umbrella (the handle is just that little bit too low), desperately trying to keep my golf bag, kit, spare gloves etcetera, all dry while attempting to swing clubs in full waterproofs in the vain attempt to stay dry/warm enough to function in some semblance of normality. Instead, I found myself disappointed yet again at missing out on the opportunity to play the course I keep being told is one I would love. Instead, my big "take" from the weekend (apparently this is the sort of term the kids are using - but then if I have heard of it, it's probably already passe) was the result of a deeply unpleasant experience on my way to the theatre (which sounds very grand, but in reality my son was in the Drama League production on Church Street, not exactly London's West End). Being a polite sort of chap, I decided that having had some cheesy garlic pizza before setting off (homemade, naturally), it would be considerate of me to pop a mint in my gob so as not to inflict garlicy breathe on my fellow theatre patrons. I forgot about Covid As I got out of the car, I put on the obligatory face mask, and promptly was on the receiving end of someone apparently trying to freeze-boil the top layer of my eyeballs off. Minty breath it turns out, should be re-packaged and used as paint stripper. Being be-spectacled did not help as this seemed to channel the flow of supercooled fire with much greater efficiency over my eyeballs. Honestly about two breaths in and my eyes were streaming, another breath and the glasses were off and I was avoiding bumping into blurred shapes in front of me. Of course, being a man's-man type of guy (no sniggering, please), not for me any weak or pathetic mints. Oh no, I go for the super strong versions as anything less would clearly be a challenge to my manhood. Unfortunately, such bravado apparently comes at a cost, little did I know. Which brings me to the question of why the hell hasn't there been some kind of public health warning issued about this? I am, however, taking on the mantle on behalf of all sensible people everywhere, and ask that you let my example be heeded by all - while you are wearing a mask, no-one gives a damn about your breath, and your eyeballs will thank me for this valuable lesson. I'm off to buy a set of goggles, and look forward to seeing you all out there when the weather improves Stay safe, and play well Steve |