9 Hole Winner Stuart Ephgrave
Top Golf Winner Colin Nourse
The evening’s proceedings began with a gumball rally style gathering outside the DDC with what appeared to be a cross between a fashion parade and a hunting expedition. All manner of strange paraphernalia were being loaded into various vehicles, while drivers discussed seating arrangements and passengers swapped commentary on each other’s apparel.
Once suitably equipped and packaged, the three heavily laden vehicles set forth to the wilds of Surrey and mysteries that were to await them. For those who have not ventured to the Top Golf centre at Addlestone before, I would describe it as a modern gem; a reclaimed quarry in the heart of suburbia. The small rolling hillocks surround a rather foreboding pond and a modern clubhouse complex with an interesting Tardis quality about it.
After a beer or two and short discussion on the vagaries of the handicap system it was decided to split the “golfers” and “non-golfers” into three mixed groups, thereby providing some level of coaching and allow for a more even pace around the course. Naturally, the senior team consisting of Stuart P, Keith, Phillip and Malcolm were allowed to tee-off first. Partly to show us the way and partly to allow the crinklies a head start. Stu Ephgrave, Andy, Lionel and yours truly were next to venture out into the brush, leaving the younger more rebellious element of Adam, Stu O and the audacious Sean to bring up the rear. Audacious is not normally a word that I would use to describe Sean, but the sight of his newly purchased clubs thrashing through blades of long grass reminded me of Stewert Granger in King Solomon’s Mines.
The aim of the game I believe is the knock the small white, or sometimes yellow, ball toward a distant flag and into the tiny hole at its base. Apparently it makes little difference if the ball flies through the air or rolls along the ground, as long as it ends up in the hole. Sounds a bit like life in general, but let’s not get too philosophical at this juncture.
This seemingly innocuous pastime is supposed to be relaxing, but this has more to do with the hilarity of watching the players slice and hook their balls into all manner of obstacles than it does with a gentle stroll around the parkland. While our experts blasted their little balls into the distance, occasionally in the vicinity of the green, the rest of us lesser mortals, scuffed, slashed and thwacked our way toward the target. There were some very memorable examples of “teeing off.” Lionel’s first attempt immediately found the pond while Andy’s drive sailed toward the second, although he was aiming for the first!
After an hour of digging in the sandpits and slashing through the undergrowth, we eventually emerged back at the clubhouse and rather amazingly only lost two balls. Now began the complex process of working out the score. It seems that if you already have a handicap, then you have to get around the course using fewer shots than any of the fellow competitors who are actually handicapped and cannot hit the ball straight. Although this sounds rather discriminatory, it meant that many of our experts were surpassed by the novices and forced to construct endless excuses about the conditions and the weather. All except Stu Ephgrave who having undertaken the scoring and re-scoring, found himself to be the winner. Time for a beer and some food me thinks!
As we approached the clubhouse a few familiar faces were there to greet us. The second wave of intrepid golfers had arrived and were now basking in the afternoon sun, pint in hand. After much handshaking, beer drinking and tales of daring do Bob, Colin, Ozzie and the gang lead the way to our banquette. Several of the local wenches had already pushed together a few large tables were bring forth platters of chips, onion rings and semi-burgers of beef and chicken. Luckily most of us, being fit dancing types, are already on diets and didn’t object to the meagre portions. At least the nice young ladies brought out more beer!
The evening’s entertainment began with a briefing on the complex process of how one registers ones balls before wracking the hell out of them! Hmm! The driving range should have been the place where I was to learn the art of launching my little white ball toward the far distance target and scoring points for the proximity of its final resting place. However, the beer and jollity had taken their toll and my slashing and wracking became about as unpredictable as a pregnant wife’s mood swings. At least I didn’t come last!
Although Colin Nourse gave us an exhibition in how to launch long range missiles, even with the occasional run-up, it was that old master, Uncle Bob, who accumulated the top score. Unfortunately, bedtime calls early when you get to Bob’s age, so his prize of a trendy Top Golf tee-shirt was snaffled by Colin!
A fantastic afternoon and evening was had by all and many thanks go out to the chauffeurs and especially to Stuart Perren for organising the whole event. Roll-up for the next one… Ten-pin Bowling :o)
Pictures to follow......