A new way not
to break 100

My attempt to mark my first week of chemotherapy with a much improved display in the first medal of the year and, perhaps, breaking 100 for the first time in 12 years went embarrassingly awry.

Refusing to blame the chemo, I take full responsibility. For a start, it was only vanity that convinced me that I could brush aside the best efforts of medical science and carry on as if nothing was happening.

I felt pretty good, as I always do when the primroses come out, and could not have had more support in my latest and possibly my most foolish attempt to impose my will upon a golf course.

Leon Reece, our captain no less, offered to accompany me and offer the necessary encouragement for me to reach my goal. The third member of our three-ball was Martin Gray another friend capable of solid and expert support. I also hired a buggy to save my legs.

I had been warned that I could expect a bit of fatigue and one or two other side effects such as diarrhoea, for which they gave me tablets to be taken immediately. I forgot them, of course, and regretted it halfway down the first by which I’d already hit my first tree.

I am not blaming the state of my stomach for my seven on the first. But after sinking the putt I jumped in the buggy and raced for our newly-built toilet about 300 yards away. Thankfully, there were no golfers in the way or they would have been mown down unmercifully.

When I returned, my partners had already let the following group through and the next three were waiting but they kindly asked us to play on — no doubt respectful of his captaincy and my incontinency.

Our second is a short but sharply uphill par-three and I didn’t really need the additional audience as I flung my seven iron at the ball. It flew straight along the ground, hit the rim of the cart-path and flew back high over our heads to land at the foot of one our new wooden hole-signs.

I don’t which was more embarrassing, the shot I had just made or watching five men trying desperately not to laugh at a cancer sufferer — a task at which they failed miserably.

Someone eventually composed himself sufficiently to offer the only consolation that was possible. ‘You can get a drop from there,‘ he spluttered..

And so I did. This time the club did its proper job and propelled the ball high towards the green. Unfortunately, it took an unkind bounce and plopped into the greenside bunker.

I splashed out in spectacular fashion and cleared the green by about ten yards into the rough beyond. How I got a six was a miracle.

My comrades could not have been more generously supportive but circumstances other than my golf were making me very uncomfortable.

After five holes, I had compiled scores of 6,7,8,9 and 10 which is a bloody poker hand but not much good on a golf course.

I carried on bravely until the eighth where the toilet is situated near to the cabin where we take our half-way pie and a drink.

‘I’m not going past there,’ I said as we approached the eighth green. ’What, the cabin?’ No, the bloody toilet.

So they left me with my blessings for a peaceful final ten holes while I repaired to the clubhouse to sit in the sun alongside the 18th green, sipping a cup of coffee and taking the piss out of anyone finishing who hadn’t broken 100.

Whatever happens to you in life you must take your pleasures where you can.

2 thoughts on “A new way not
to break 100

  1. Thanks for the laugh, very funny. I was very lucky with my cancer, and hope you come through your chemo and bring us plenty more years of laughter and tears of recognition of golf’s many and various ways of making us look total prats.
    Good luck.

  2. Hi Peter,
    Having moved to Spain some ten years ago, it was inevitable that Corinne and I would lose touch with the
    GGC and its characters. We are sorry to hear that you have had health problems, and of course we wish you well in your recovery.
    When asked what I miss most about the U.K. the answer is an immediate GGC – Mostly the nineteenth hole over-indulgence and the vociferous banter.
    Golf in Spain? – Well it was inevitable that I would eventually crack it. Now no longer a challenge, it became a choice between turning professional and playing the Seniors circuit, or tackling something more demanding.
    I read that the E. L. James 50 Shades trilogy has sold 70 million copies worldwide.
    Sadomasochism – I don’t get it! I do know that if I took a whip to Corinne, she would come back with a sledge hammer.
    ” But surely a straight, erotic, romantic novel is not beyond my writing skills “, thought I.
    The guys will not be surprised that my penchant for calling a spade an ‘effing shovel prevailed, and the end product is a novel written in a highly explicit manner.
    However, the Ladies section of GGC must not despair. Pre-publish reviews describe
    “…But like there’s no tomorrow ” as a beautiful love story full of laughter and pathos.
    Even a cynical old bugger like you Peter, will be reduced to tears.
    Publish date 28th. August 2014. ( Troubador ).
    Take a look at Peter Rumens in Facebook to learn more.
    Best wishes to you and all at GGC.
    In the meantime I’ll swing the sticks once a week – Just in case !

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