Golf and Relaxation

Friends came over last night for yet another christmas dinner. S had been talking about the game of golf he had played earlier in the day, remarking on how relaxing it was and that if you ever want to de-stress, then golf is the way to go. "Do you play at all?" he asked. "Well yes, sort of.. ish" I said. I told him the story of what happened the last time I played a round of eighteen holes with W.

All had been going well until the seventeenth. We are fairly even when it comes to skill level, or lack of, and we had just finished on the green. As we started to walk on towards the next Tee, I noticed a shiny white golf ball on the edge of the green. Thank you very much, I thought to myself as I reached down and picked it up. For some reason, it hadn't occurred to me that there maybe people playing behind us and as we reached the next Tee a guy walked over to us and asked "Excuse me fellas, you haven't seen a ball land over this way have you?" The ball in question was the one in my hand. Bugger, I thought, I had to apologise and own up. Now some golfers I know have a tendency to be quite touchy when it comes moving their golf balls, or walking on their line. Not knowing how he how he would react, I tried to be as honest as I could be.

Me - No, sorry mate. Did you see where it went at all?

Guy - I thought it landed somewhere near the green.

Me - No, sorry (shakes head) I didn't see anything land.

W - It landed near the green you reckon?

I wanted to put gaffer tape over W's mouth. "No there was nothing on the green" I said, looking at W and indicating that the ball was in fact, in my hand. "No, no, I didn't see anything on the green" he confirmed.

The guy walked off to look for his ball as W lined up to Tee off for the eighteenth. "He's not happy" said W, as he lined to take a practise swing. The guy was looking for his golf ball and cursing to his friend as he swung his golf club into the grass, using it as a scythe. "Will you just take your shot so that we can move on" I said, feeling slightly stressed. W tutted and took his swing. "You're going to have to drop it" he said. He was right of course. I took my swing and we started to walk off to take our second shots.

Not wanting to be obvious in dropping it, I thought i'd let it run down the inside of my trouser leg - something i'd seen in a James Bond film. Needless to say, the ball ran down the inside of my leg as expected, but got caught at the bottom, leaving me with what looked like a golf ball sized tumour on my ankle. More stress, as I tried to shake it loose, which eventually, I did before moving on to finish the hole.

Now golf may be, i'm sure, a relaxing and de-stressing experience, but on this evidence I think i'd rather opt for a bath and a pot noodle.