26th March- Cleeve Hill GC
It was a gloriously blue sky kind of day, which welcomed us onto the top of the Cotswold’s, for the WHV season opener. The overly excitable sponsor was flitting around the clubhouse, managing player arrivals and bacon and coffee and green fees and everything else he could think of, to make the day perfect and to his satisfaction.
From the relative safety of the clubhouse frontage, we embarked on our round, mingling with walkers and dogs, to be faced with our first hole. Once the mat had been located, and the sponsor had secured his first tee off spot – for reasons which I am not aware, the game could commence.
the opening drive is always a tense affair, when holding a hickory shafted lump hammer, but he prevailed and shovelled his ball somewhere forward, we were off.
Our group didn’t really see much of the others, dictated by the course layout, but me, Vegas, the Cat and Mr Bojangles started on our merry way on what was to be an eventful and fun afternoon golf. Having shanked my opening 3 iron sideways, and then thinned my second shot, I didn’t get off to a blistering start. Vegas was in the swing of it fast, the Cat played a delightful second hop, checking pitch to the green – and the society Morris Dancer was clanking his way onwards as he generally does.
after my second shank on the 3rd hole, I wondered if it was to be my day, and then losing my drive on the 4th, where the fairway was approximately as wide as the Cotswolds I was sceptical of my capability. BUT, a few decent hits later, and taking stock that everyone was finding the going a little tricky in the wind and unfamiiar terrain things settled down.
The short par 3 6th was worthy of any links course, and the longer 7th played host to me falling flat on my face, and the Cat playing the wrong ball – it was all a little chaotic. The non-dog-dog hole was next, as we climbed to the trig point. It’s always a good idea to make sure your garmin is on the hole you actually playing, and not hit a 3-wood to the green from 120 yards, whilst not realising that it has given you the distance to the previous green. On we went, skipping out the 10th hole because we couldn’t be bothered to play it, and then up to the high point. The Single Beech undoubtedly the star of the show, as we played our second shots to the ancient fort grounds, overlooking the racecourse below. This magnificent stretch of countryside, with the skylarks and pipits firing up from the ground, and the Red Kites hovering on the updraft, took us to a brace of par 3s – the crater hole left the Cat fighting the cliff wall, and the following par 3 was a tough test into the wind. The 17th saw 4 good drives, and then a catalogue of dog sh1t approach shots. Mr Tambourine man, and his golf bag of jangling metal ploughed on ahead, just avoiding my 3rd straight shank of the day as it rose above him into the cabbage. The 18th was finally negotiated after an interminable wait for the group ahead to search for a lost ball, and Noz in no particular hurry to get out of the way it seemed, we finished our round in style. The Cat couldn’t find his drive, from the middle of the fairway, me and Vegas in the valley of Sin, and the one man band was somewhere else.
Unbeknown to the eventual victor, everyone had found the conditions tough, and it felt like survival of the fittest based on the scores. A straight shootout between me and Millers, left Idiot with the winning spoils and a rather splendid drop of vintage port. The Cat tried to neck his forfeit drink, and the spot prizes were dished out. with the sponsor picking up the shark, the Suisse was won by Juice and the sponsor also collecting the rabid dog.
So a big thanks to all for a fine afternoon in the sun, well done Greggers and roll on the next event. now where the hell is that calendar?
