As some of you may have guessed by now my father-in-law is a fan of golf; watches it on TV, plays crazy golf, miniature golf and adventure golf. However he’s never been to a real golf course. I myself am not a golf player but when my beautiful wife, the woman who makes sure I never run out of Jaffa Cakes, asked if I’d take him for Father’s day, I agreed.
If you’ve read my previous post about us golfing together you’ll already know we have matching burgundy and beige outfits and he has two sets of golf clubs. Of course he called me that morning reminding me to put on my outfit and make sure my golf shoes, which he also bought me, were clean. I wore the trousers and polo top but the burgundy golf sweater was somehow magically shrunk in the wash. Yes, I was as disappointed to learn we weren’t going to match as he was. But I said I’d get a new sweater when I was there before he had chance to loan me one of his.
We arrived and made a trip to the golf store, where I browsed through sweaters. It was a hot day so I wasn’t too sure I needed one. Especially when they came with a £65 price tag, was £95. This was the sale price! SALE PRICE! Shouldn’t sales be cheap?! Does George at ASDA make golf sweaters? To make it worse these weren’t even fancy golf sweaters. They were plain black, white, cream or navy with a colourfully knitted stripe around the v-neck. For £65 I want at least three stripes!
Anyway, I look over and see the father-in-law doing the hanger and mirror trick. For any ladies reading this, this means holding a hanger against his body to see if the jumper would suit him or not. This is how we men try on all our clothes. I saw him check the price tag and look a little put out.
“Here,” I said. “Hand it to me.”
“Really? It’s expensive” he said.
“Its a gift from me” I replied. Its father’s day, what the heck.
Then a friendly young girl comes over and asks if she can help.
“We’re just looking,” I said.
“Do you play often?” she asked.
I opened my mouth but the father-in-law got there first. “Oh all the time” he said. “Never been on a course before though.”
I smiled awkwardly as the store assistant gave me a slightly puzzled look.
“Oh right, well do you have everything you need?” she asked him politely.
“We’ve got golf clubs, and our snazzy outfits. Even got gloves. What else is there?” he asked.
“There’s lots,” she said. “For instance, its hot today, do you have a cap?”
“At home,” he said, sounding worried.
“Well we have a great selection here and they’re on sale too!” she said before leading the way.
My father-in-law toddled along behind her, I followed.
He picked a burgundy one with a badge on the side. “You’ll need one too” he said, looking at me.
I kept a neutral expression and was going to pick a plain white one to match my white polo top, when he picked up another one just like his.
“Try it on,” he said.
I reluctantly did. It fit.
“I don’t need to try mine on, I have a head that just fits hats like that!” he said to the assistant, and snapped his fingers,
She laughed. “Do you have a trolley for your bag?”
“Ooh no” he said.
“Eighteen holes is a lot of walking while carrying your clubs” she said. “Especially in this heat. Ours are on sale. I’ll show you” she said.
She’s good, I thought. So good, that in twenty-five minutes I’d purchased two trolleys, a sweater, two caps, four packs of balls and a pack of tees, it cost me £170.00 (and that was on sale). SALE! Now to any avid golfers this may seem like a good deal, brilliant even. However I’d just like to remind you, I am not a golfer. And I never again ever in my life even if I live to be 379 intend to use this stuff again. So I repeat:
twenty-five minutes. £170.00. SALE PRICE.
On the golf course, guess who’s cap didn’t fit? That’s right. His.
Guess who didn’t end up wearing his £65 ‘in case it gets cold’ sweater? That’s right. Him.
Guess who ended up lugging both of the trolleys around after the third hole? That’s right. Me.
Guess who repeatedly hit his balls into the pond? That’s right. Him.
Guess who continuously forgot to replace divots? That’s right. Him.
Guess who insisted on hitting the ball until he got it in the hole? Even when on whole nine he got it stuck in a sandpit and it took him twenty-one strikes alone to get it out, much to the annoyance of the group waiting behind us? That’s right. Him.
Guess who paid for lunch at the golf club and had to send a certain someone’s steak back twice, just for him to change his mind and order chicken? That’s right. Me.
And guess which idiot agreed to do this again? That’s right. Me.
The wife better keep buying me those Jaffa Cakes.