So about a week ago my father-in-law invited me to go golfing. He’s invited me many times over the years, but having no interest in golf (or in spending time with the crazy father-in-law) I have always declined. But this year my wife really insisted I go. So for the quiet life I agreed.
Now during the week it snowed very much here in England, so I was getting my hopes up that perhaps the day would be cancelled. When it was still snowing on the Saturday and we were due to go the Sunday, I became certain the day would be called off.
But Alas it was not! Saturday night my father-in-law calls me up and tells me to be there at 1pm the following day.
“What about the snow?”
“Don’t let a bit of snow put you off. Bet it will stop tomorrow anyway.”
I hide my groan and ask what to wear.
“Anything” he replies.
The next day I go along, its heavily snowing by the way, and knock on his front door. He has a big smile on his face and I am completely convinced the man must not see snow. Snow must not exist to him. The two-foot snow hill in his back garden and up against the front door must be invisible to him.
“Here you go” he says and pats the bag filled with his old golf clubs that hes lending me. (My mother-in-law bought him new ones for Christmas). “Oh, I got you these as well” he adds and hands me a yellow bag with some sort of golf brand and logo plastered across the front. He’s dressed in golf gear complete with a white cap and his clubs have been polished and shine more than the Queen’s silver. Out of the bag I pull a burgundy (that’s right BURGANDY) v-neck sweater, a pair of beige trousers and some soft-soled beige and white pumps.
“Well, go upstairs and put them on then!Then we can match” he insists. Clearly the disgusted look on my face is invisible to him aswell. But I do as told.
As I come downstairs, my father-in-law, dressed also in burgandy and beige by the way, in case you missed that, is zipping up his thick coat.
“Are you sure we should be going out in this weather, Dad? Took me half an hour longer than usual to get up here” I ask.
“It will be fine. We got your big fancy car to drive us there. And like I always say, its only a bit of snow.”
So we spend ten minutes getting the guy down the snow-covered path and into my car and once both sets of golf clubs are in the back, we drive off.
“So Dad,” I say. “Does this golf place have some kind of special grass? That melts the snow?”
“I don’t know” he replies. “I don’t think the snow is really an issue.”
“Really? You can play golf in the snow? I didn’t know you were that good. How can you see the holes? How can you hit the ball?No wonder you go all the time”
Tapping the side of his nose with his index finger, he winks and says: “You just follow the professional.”
Now I’m rather curious to see him play, my curiosity growing as the destination (which he tells me is only ten minutes away) takes us thirty-five minutes to get to. Until we pull up at Stars Sports Arena and Indoor Crazy Golf!
We are going to get the crap kicked out of us!