It seemed a really good idea at the time. So what if I hadn’t picked up a golf club in anger for two years, after a couple of holes it will all come back, surely. So yes, I’ll play on the Gima Golf Day, especially as one of my colleagues was organising it, no problem.
Rainy start. Filled up with coffee and bacon rolls, we’re oblivious to the wind and rain. First hole nightmare. But no problem, always a slow start. Holes two to six, all a bit of a nightmare – still. However two of my playing partners are playing well, and we’ve garnered a few points between us at the half way point. Until I check how to score properly with the team ahead, so turns out we’ve in fact over-scored so our meagre total is reduced further. The rest of the round is a bit of a blur, played through gritted teeth and numerous lost balls. Last tee. As it’s the last one, I’m really going to give it some wellie….air shot.
Back to the clubhouse, scores discreetly handed in. Anonymity not allowed. Whoever remembers who came, 2nd, or 5th, or 22nd? But apparently they do remember who came last. However the wooden spoon is extremely useful…
I’ll be back next year though.
If asked.