Wednesday, 18 July 2007

Time with the Gents Part 1

The last few days have been hugely fun!

First up, Protagoras came up for a go on the driving range and a game of golf at Drumoig. It appeared at first as if his trip would be a complete bust, because at 10am when he arrived it was teeming down with rain - as well as being cold and foggy. Nevertheless, we manfully (womanfully?) braved the elements and headed to the driving range, which was at least partly sheltered. There we had fun smacking the crap out of 100 balls apiece, and then looked out on the still dull, grey and miserable day in a considering sort of fashion.

"So - you up for a bit of golf then?" I asked.
"Sure thing," came the response - and so off we went. In a fit of extravagance we rented a buggy - and I've decided I'm never going anywhere without one, ever again! Not even to the loo! They are so much fun. They can turn on a sixpence, and every bump in the road feels like a massive mogul! Pro and I took it in turns to drive in a very civilised manner ... that is, 'in a very civilised manner, Pro and I took it in turns to drive'. The previous sentence was very misleading. Some of my driving was far from civilised.

We hacked and sliced our way round the course, hitting just enough good shots to keep ourselves interested but not enough to make things easy, or give us any notion that we might actually be able to play the game. We didn't keep score, which was great, and just enjoyed the beautiful course and zooming after our wayward shots in our little buggy.

At about the sixth hole the sun started straining to disperse the fog, and by the seventh it was well and truly out. I'd dressed for more traditional weather, so was soon gasping in my jeans, long-sleeved shirt and vest-top. Pro was better attired, but even so we were both very pink in the face by the end of the round.

I have to say, I think I called an end a little too soon for Pro's liking, but after the seventh I couldn't hit a drive to save my life, and recognised that I really don't have the stamina - or ability - to play more than 9 holes yet. The moment my arms start getting tired the ball goes all over the place. Anyway - if you recall, the last time I played Drumoig I received a clear sign from the golf gods that my time was up when the ball bounced so flukily off a fence post. This time, on the 10th hole, I struck a very poor drive out over the water hazard. It fizzed low and hard out over the surface, threatening at any moment to drop ... and promptly hit the far bank, bounced up and landed on the green! Pro couldn't quite believe it. He'd told himself on the last hole that he'd only play the next if he could hole it in 5. However, he only missed by one and thought that was good enough to have one last bash. Unfortunately, it proved to be a bad one for him. He lost three balls off the tee and declared he'd had quite enough thank you very much. I agreed. Having forgone breakfast in favour of some extra kip, I was absolutely ravenous.

Fisher joined us for a bite at the reliable St Michael's Inn, and marvelled at how much quicker we'd been than I usually am with Arrow. She thought I must be improving, until I told her - somewhat reluctantly - about the buggy. I lost her respect.

It was a very enjoyable game, and Pro appears to have caught the golf bug too. When I phoned him yesterday I had a conversation with him that was accompanied by the distant thunder of balls as they were dispensed into little baskets. He's found himself a local driving range. Koios may never see him again. In fact, Lu, Fisher and Koios are all in danger of becoming golf widows! Perhaps I should see if Spartan would like to get in on the act as well - although he can actually play, so maybe not!

I played tennis in the evening - mixed doubles, which proved to be proper exercise in comparison to the ladies' doubles! Two days later, and I still ache! We played a good 3 hours, and I thoroughly enjoyed hitting some hard balls, while my serve improved dramatically. It's been rubbish this season, but luckily I seemed to hit a bit of a rhythm on Monday. Now, if only I can figure out why! We beat our opponents fair and square, despite them showing up half an hour late and theoretically fofeiting the opening round.

Yesterday was very lazy. I went to Dundee to get my glasses back from the repair shop and couldn't resist buying a PS2 game - Medal of Honor, European Assault. This I spend the vast majority of yesterday afternoon attempting to master, but I'm never very good at games. I just love playing them. I've finished Europe and North Africa - now I'm on to Russia. Why it's called European Assault I have no idea. Since when is Tunisia in Europe? Silly Yanks. Still, what's very refreshing is that it's an American soldier, but he spends the first two levels in the company of British commandos, and the Desert Rats. Now he's with Russian soldiers and partisans. The Americans are actually admitting some other people were involved with winning the war! Gasp!

Dammit. Maybe it's made by Brits. I hadn't thought of that.

Why am I writing about a PS2 game?? Jeeze ... I could go back and delete all that guff, but that would be an admission that I've just wasted 10 minutes of my life, so I shall leave it there. Perhaps some historian, one day, will read it and become terrible excited because it's the only evidence in existence that 30 year old women also played PlayStation games.

Ok, I've lost it now. I think I ought to have a break. I'll write more later.

Yesterday I did