Just back from a weekend in south Cornwall. The hotel (chosen by Winnie and Reg) was fab and the course very scenic with no dastardly water hazards (unless you count the sea, and even the boys didn’t hit it that far).
I think I’ll be polite about the weather and call it mixed, though horizontal rain and a brisk sou’ westerly were both pretty much in evidence. Still, between great breakfasts and dinners we managed two rounds and a trip to a dismal looking Truro. (Sorry, residents of Truro, I’m sure it’s lovely in the sun!)
As for the golf, on the first day, competition centred on who had the wettest clubs/bag/legs by the time we got back. (Luckily the hotel had its own drying room).
The second day started better and soon got spectacular for me when I managed to birdie the ninth hole in three. (This was so astounding it’s getting a post of its own. Look out for the soon to be created 'boasting' tag, no doubt to be followed by 'weeping', and 'gnashing of teeth').
After that things went down-hill. Having waved through the couple behind us on the twelfth, one of them proceeded to take three shots to get past the ladies’ tee (no we didn’t hold him up by insisting on the usual penalty) and another eleven shots (roughly) to get to within 100 yards of the green at which point he gave up. We then marched purposefully up to where our balls lay in a neat four (all very respectable drives for a change) only to discover that in the interim some of us (mentioning no names) had forgotten how to swing a club or hit a ball. From then on it could only get worse. On the next hole (par 5 - up hill - wind against!) I had a poor drive, the rain came down (or rather across) and I started a nose bleed which was difficult to staunch with one damp and disintegrating tissue. By the end of the day I had quite forgotten the birdie. But it's all coming back to me now!
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