Golf

Golf is over rated. Honestly, if you are getting cross because you can’t hug your mum and other people can play golf then stop, you wouldn’t want to play golf anyway. Trust me, it’s not even a nice walk: you can’t take the dog and you have to keep stopping.

Nice countryside - shame about the sand and holes

Don’t tell the Long Suffering Husband, as he’s rather fond of a game of golf and has been missing it in the same way I’m missing the swimming pool.

In a gradual easing of lockdown restrictions it can seem unfair when not everything happens at the same time.
“It’s not fair! Why can he play golf and I can’t swim?”
Actually, it isn’t fair. This has never been about fairness.

In a world where we are trying to get back to normal, the country has to prioritise who they can afford to lose first  so it seems entirely reasonable to sacrifice golfers. I mean, what contribution to society do they actually make?

Obviously, I’m joking.

I shouldn’t have needed to write that but these are strange times.

The LSH’s golf club is not letting their members play with one other person from outside their household. They are maintaining a strict Womble policy. (I know - one ball - but the LSH mumbles).
I thought that once the course opened, the Long Suffering, would be clicking to get a tee time like someone desperate for Glastonbury tickets but instead he seems happy to just keep in touch via the WhatsApp group. I say WhatsApp group but as he is a member of the Vets (they let him in because he retired and yes he is technically much too young) I think it’s all done by email.

They have been having their weekly competitions and every Wednesday his phone pings a million times a second as the random number generator alerts him to every score on every hole. I have to say that it is much quicker. A round would normally take all morning but these seem to be over by about 10. Last week, he won a £10 gardening voucher that he is overly pleased with now we can go and get plants.

The Veterans group are lobbying the golf course owner hard to relax the rules. They are keen to get back to playing normally as soon as possible. The LSH struggles to understand.
“They’re all in their Seventies and Eighties,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “They are in the vulnerable group and should stay at home.”
“So maybe they’ve assessed the risk and decided that they are probably going to die soon anyway and they’d rather spend their last few years actually living.” I suggested.
The LSH has decided that as he probably isn’t going to die in the next few years he can afford to take a break from living for a while.

I’m quite glad because it has been very useful having a house fairy around, while I flit around in my usual creative but not entirely productive fashion.