The course is not physically demanding, it’s as flat as the Netherlands. And there is space to err on most of the fairways. You can usually play to the green from another fairway. But it’s no sucker, and demands the measure of my 18 handicap to get round in par.
Stray from plumb with your tee shot and there are some awkward little patches to cost you a swipe or two. There is also plenty of out-of-bounds and no few out–of-orders, too, with roads and a school running the length of several holes.
Water on the ninth is always a laugh. Latest evolutionary thinking says man probably evolved in freshwater pools, and not from the sea, (missing links?), and it is to this freshwater that a golfer’s fortunes are so often forced when playing the last of the nine. Wind is a factor; not least your own, I might add, as you become obsessed with MISSING the water, the length is not easy to judge, and there’s a brutal little surrounding hillock to make this hole a testy.
If it all becomes too much before you make it to the excellent facilities and Pro shop, you can play the first again. And if you don’t want to be escorted from the course by Men in White Coats, try not to rant and rave embarrassingly when the second shot veers violently to the left. It will be in the grounds of Springfield psychiatric hospital. And so could you be.
HOME CLUB: Central London
HANDICAP: 18
RELATIONSHIP: regular
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