"Golf" spelt backwards is "Flog."

My son Henry took up golf this year which inspired me to try my hand at the sport again after a seventeen year lay off.

After a few trips to the driving range, smashing untold practice balls into infinity (and beyond) I finally felt ready for a full round of golf so I decided to invite a couple of close old friends ("OLD" being the operative word here...) down to my caravan in "sunny" Dymchurch for a "lads" Friday night out and "18 holes" the following morning at the "pay and play" course at Littlestone.

The two "old" friends in question were, of course, ex-New Beach football chums, Phil and John who, not only know how to play golf to a decent standard, but also know how to consume vast quantities of alcohol of differing types ie: beer, wine, beer, spirits, more beer, and all in one sitting, so this was going to be a very interesting weekend which also had the potential of getting very, very messy...

The [Friday] evening started early when we met up in the Neptune Inn (right), a nice "ye olde worlde" 15th century pubbe. After a few quickly sunk pints, we set off for a nice little bistro in Hythe to enjoy a meal  accompanied by few bottles of Merlot (that's a French red wine to any uncoof peasants reading this).

Now this was still quite sedate and "civilised" until Phil said, "Have we got time for a little nightcap?" at which point all three of us knew that the answer to this question would invariably push us towards alcohol oblivion...

Anyway, it was back to the Neptune to partake of the afore mentioned "nightcap" where the "Friday Night Karaoke" session was now in full flow, complete with drunken sots "murdering" such classics as "She Loves You," "Blue Suede Shoes," and the theme of all wronged or dumped women, "I Will Survive..."

Of course, after another few pints, I too was prepared to exhibit my own crooning skills to the assembled motley crew where I proceeded to render my own version of that old Andy Williams favourite, "Can't Take My Eyes Off You." I have to admit, it wasn't so much my singing as it was also getting various groups of piss-heads to join in the chorus while I entered into my own fantasy world of "Woodo In Concert - Live at the O2 Arena,"  what an entertainer...

"Chuckin' Out Time" came far too soon so it was back to the caravan where Phil then produced a bottle of Brandy which he and John then decided to consume over a two hour period before finally slumping into a drunken stupor at around 2:30am. I didn't join them in this particular "adventure" as I knew I was already over my pre-hangover drinking threshold and that the "morning after" experience would be lying in wait for me on first awakening, ready to bash me repeatedly over the head until the Nurofen+ kicked in...

Morning came and my own little "World of Pain" was eased considerably when I saw the state the other two were in, although they did both make remarkable recoveries as soon as they had their first tea/bacon sarnie/fag of the day. Anyway, off we went for our round of golf, or "flog," if you were accurately describing my attempts at hitting the ball however, what a jolly morning of fun it was turned out to be for one and all.

Now I won't go into the specifics of the round but I can safely say what good value a round of golf is nowadays, I mean, just twenty quid for all those hits of the ball and I even ended with a net ball lost/found count of plus three so a little bonus there too...

So, a great weekend was had by all and it was unanimously agreed that we'll do a repeat performance in the spring when the caravan (or the "Golf Lodge" as it's now know by Phil and John) reopens in April. Until then I'll get plenty of practice at the driving range and get a few more rounds under my belt so, at the next outing, I don't end up "flogging" that poor golf ball...

Speak soon,

Luv,

Woodo

x

Nurofen+: A Veteran Footballers best friend...

Last Sunday I played my first football match since coming back from my trip to Hong Kong and only now has the pain and stiffness in my weary old legs finally gone however, I fear it would've been a lot worse if not for that wonderful pain killing drug, Nurofen Plus...

Good old Nurofen Plus, I can only describe it as "the ageing footballers best friend" but, it's not just for veteran sportsmen, I can safely say that it's also very popular with the hardened party goer when faced with "the-morning-after" feeling following an exceptionally heavy session consuming various alcoholic beverages the night before (done that one too on more than one occasion...).

Now there's something you should know about Nurofen Plus, it contains Codeine, a substance found in the Opium Poppy which, apart from being a pain killing ingredient can also be addictive. So, after three days of popping Nurofen Plus you might start yearning to listen to Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" in a darkened room with a magic lantern making pretty coloured light shapes on the wall and ceiling. Well, maybe not you but I did...

Of course the stiffness in the old limbs also comes from not "cooling down" properly after the match (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cooling_down) and, to be brutally honest, all this "cooling down" lark is a real drag when all you feel like doing after a hard game is just slumping in the corner, stare vacantly into space and dream of a nice cup of tea/cold beer/glass of water (delete as appropriate...) so consequently it's often a post-match ritual which is, at best, only briefly executed or, in most cases, skipped altogether.

So, unless you cool down you'll stiffen up (NO! not THAT "stiffening...") and ache for the next three - four days, walking around like some Simian extra from "Planet of the Apes," which is something my darling wife frequently likes to point out to me when I hobble about and utter the accompanying noises such as "Oooh, Argh, Ow, Oof..."

Anyway, I was substitute this week as I'd been away for the two previous matches but I did get on just before half time at which point we were already two nil down. The match ended with us losing 5 - 3 however, from a personal viewpoint, I can say that I drew 3 - 3 so maybe they should have started with me in the first place (Wheatleys Manager please take note...) ;-)

Being "sub" and still aching as I did worried me a bit, God knows how bad it would've been if I played the full ninety minutes but I think I'll "sweep this one under the carpet" and attribute the post match aches and pains down to a combination of jet lag and being cooped up on a plane for twelve hours and not me getting [even more] old and warty...

This week there's no game for my team but I was asked to play for the over 45's team. To be quite honest I felt somewhat insulted, well I mean, I'm only 54 and far too young to play in THAT age bracket, so I politely declined the offer and instead I'll get my Subbuteo Table Soccer set out of the loft and replay England v West Germany from the 1970 World Cup, but only this time England win 10 - 2...














Right, back to the day job so see you soon (or not as the case may be...).

Luv
Woodo