A month or so ago now, with Summer on the horizon (somewhat distant, but there none the less) I decided that it was about time that I invested in some golf clubs. After all, the only clubs that I’d ever had had been handed down from Paul to Dad and on to me. I was one of those rare people that pulled out a driver that was actually made of wood! Not to mention the size complex one get’s when everyone else’s driver is about 3 times the size of your own.
I was in Edmonton for work and so walked into the shop, got the guy to show me some clubs and walked out with a brand new, complete set of clubs. They go well with the bag that I won several years ago. It never quite looked right with the old clubs in it.
I am getting invited to a number of golf days through the unions that I am now dealing with and other work functions. I have been looking forward to that point where I get to pull the clubs out and actually have a hit.
Caroline has also been somewhat keen to pursue a it of golf and went to an information night at one of the courses here a little while ago. In doing this, it was suggested that she might need some clubs. I told her that if it really came to it, she could use mine (at least until she decided whether she was actually going to enjoy the game or not).
And yes, you can probably guess what happened at this point. I came home one evening to be told that Caroline had managed to get along to a bit of a give it a go type session at the driving range and that she’d used my clubs.
My new clubs.
Not the old clubs
My brand new, never used, never touched a golf ball, barely even swung, brand new golf clubs.
“It was only the driving range and I didn’t use them all.”
They were my new clubs. I still haven’t used them. And now, they’re not even virgins anymore. What more can I say?
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