Back To Earth With A Bump

I had a toweringly good time last week in Ireland although the chronic heartburn and general tiredness were candid reminders that I'm no longer a youngster. So to cheer myself up (which I need after a predictably crap day back at work) I am going to crank up the old brain cells and write about as much of it as I can remember.

It started with a great sporting shock as I beat Big Will Macfarlane to claim the Bull Bay Classic on Anglesey at the start of the trip. Willy magnanimously presented me with the trophy and it stands alongside the winning scorecard on the mantel-piece in Anglesey. Classic? Well hardly, I was just the least bad.

Poor old ViperJohn had to walk in after fourteen holes at Bull Bay and his health deteriorated when we got to Ireland. The Sutton Coldfield doctors were on hand ( a bad week to be ill back home since the doctors are all on the razz in Dunmore) to confirm a recurrence of his Meniere's Disease. Poor sod didn't hit a shot in anger all week and was only really on the mend by the time we came home. He wore it well. In his absence the three remaining members of team ' Not on the List' (ironically named for ViperJohn's blog) came stone cold last in the entire competition. It wasn't even close. We're so shit it's unbelievable.

not a par in sight

I ignored the old cliche about not mixing grape and grain on the first night and the dried-out husk of my golf game got a pitiless bashing from the course at Waterford Golf Club. I threw some four-putts into the mix just to make sure everyone knew how far I had fallen. Mediocrity is a distant aspiration. Funny course Waterford - a lot of holes which are placed on top of each other so that it can feel claustrophobic but it is certainly too good for me. Cracking breakfast in the top grade clubhouse although on reflection the breakfast was a meal too far for this particular soldier.

what fairway?

And so to Tuesday and a day of God-given beauty - sun dancing on the Irish Sea, a slight cooling breeze attending the soaring views from the cliff-tops of Dunmore East Golf Club. This is a young course, unfairly disparaged by some competitors. There are admittedly some prosaic holes further from the cliffs but the setting of the coastal holes is unmatchable. I'd not had quite such a heavy night in preparation this time but I still had right old attack of the shakes at the outset. Couldn't get the effing ball to stay on the tee-peg. Two points in the first six holes. Things then got better but not to a point one would identify as competent. Seventeenth, classic Dave - on in regulation and putting for a birdie, four putts later I had scored my final point of the round. I achieved a shanked chip in front of the clubhouse for my grand finale. Classic and curiously enjoyable.

Well all of the above has made me feel better but old time is on our tracks boys so I will resume the telling of the tale tomorrow. And I will introduce you to Iron Mike and the best sea food chowder in the world.