The Golf Lesson.

I had been playing golf for a few months on Municipal Courses by hiring clubs from the golf shop,which was a handicap in itself. You never knew what clubs you would be landed with by the assistant. Some of them would be collector’s items if you could get the teeth-marks out of the shafts. Others were quite lethal. One such club which hit the ground quite hard ended up looking like a medieval weapon of war with it’s head dangling on a length of binding thread. All very amusing to the others but it did not help the concentration to be thinking of explaining the damage in the pro-shop when you got back . Fearing a massive fine does not help your game, added to the problem that it was also the only wood in the bag !

I need not have worried , for the young assistant took one look at my ruptured club and then threw it into a large dust-bin where it joined several other remains of the day’s battle against the common enemy, namely the golf ball.

As my game was not improving much I decided to book a lesson with the Pro.

“Just bring along one club”, he said. I did not have one club ,but Ted gave me one, so I was able to turn up at the Course. “ Just go out on the practise area and I’ll be right with you,” said the Pro. I took a few practise swings and then the Professional appeared. He was immaculate, wearing two-tone golf shoes, dog-tooth slacks ,visor and sweater, he really looked the part.

His first action was to take a look at the club I was holding. “ Where the bloody hell did you get this?” he asked.

“A friend gave it to me,” I replied.

“A friend !!!” he said, accompanied by several exclamation marks, ”You don’t need friends like that in this game, even Arnold Palmer couldn’t hit anything with that bloody rubbish !”

As if to emphasise the full extent of his disgust he hurled my club into a large bush. “Here, use this ! ” he said. ‘This’ happened to be a brand–new 3 iron he had with him, which he later convinced me to buy.

When I next saw Ted, the generous one , I asked, ”Where did you get that 5-iron you gave me ?”

“ Oh !”, he said, “Uncle Jack, who works on the dust-carts found it at the rubbish-tip and brought it home.”

“See if he can find the rest of the set,” I said, “ the Pro. said they’ d be worth a small fortune. Just take them up to him; he collects rare clubs. He’s kept the one you gave me and given me this one in exchange ! ”