This is my second golf trip to the UK in a month. No, I’m not bragging (well, not intentionally), just sort of pinching myself. Actually, I’m pinching myself to stay awake. The second day is always the worst trying to make it through dinner without falling asleep in one’s soup. The two-hour nap didn’t help, either. Color me cranky.
Also a bit wet, having played Conwy Golf Club first thing this morning. (For a more complete report on the course, go here.) A great golf course, and exactly the sort of course you want for your first on a long trip, Conwy was challenging and charming, and nicely foreign in all the right sorts of ways, such as the small and crowded pro shop, the renting of pull carts (“trolleys”), the understated facilities, and the cars in the parking lot smaller than the golf carts we have in the states. And, of course, the predictably unpredictable weather.
Getting rained on is part of the fun. We play over here in weather we’d never even go outside in at home. I know golfers in the U.S. who have rain suits that never get worn on the west side of the Atlantic but are soaked with Scottish liquid sunshine. We put up with hurricane golf over here so we can laugh knowingly when the pros experience days like the Friday of this year’s Open Championship (although that was more wind, but you know what I mean). It really didn’t rain all that hard today at Conwy, not enough to put the rain pants on, just the rain shirt. The club never slipped but the towels got a good workout and are presently drying out in the back of my rental car, which likely will smell like a soggy shih tzu soon.
(Speaking of cars, on my last trip over I rented a VW Golf. It should be renamed because its trunk wasn’t big enough to hold a set of clubs, even out of the travel cover. Call it the VW Tennis or VW Bowling. This time I have a little Peugeot. That’s something else about coming over here, cars we don’t have at home. Anyone in the U.S. drive a Seat? Or a Skoda? And why doesn’t Ford import the Mondeo to America? It’s a great car.)
Also, does anyone order fish and chips at home? After my round this morning–playing alone I got around in about 2 hours 45 minutes and that was with a lot of waiting on the locals–I came back to the hotel, took a long hot shower, went to the local newsagent on High Street for a paper, and walked to the other end of High Street for a sit-down plate of cod with chips plus mushy peas, which are exactly what you think and very tasty. Now if I can just find a deep-fried Mars bar…
