GOLFMADCHICK 
2012: Year of the Cold War
There’s something about the start of the pro golf season that sparks new realms of excitement in me.
Notwithstanding my juvenile crush on the G-Mac, it is more a yearning to dust down my clubs and follow in the footsteps of Tiger’s comeback after a lengthy period in hibernation. Inspired by involuntary chunks of free time and watching the golfing greats lock horns under an Abu Dhabi sun, I decided it was time for a seasonal revival of my own. It’s no secret that my lifelong passion for the game is all consuming, only not during mid winter months. Unashamedly a fair-weather golfer, I generally hold out for eternal sunshine which is a staggeringly pointless exercise given my residence is well north of the equator.
But not so the case in 2012, I summoned a few valiant chums and braced myself for a transcendent experience. Resembling a modern day Mitchelin Man’s trophy wife bulked up on base layers and unsightly thermals, my mind perpetuated a tropical fantasy like some supercilious fool.
Cutting a less than dashing figure, I set off down the fairway floating in the soup of my own random thoughts. A heady feeling of tranquility eclipsed only by the emergence of a certain numbness in my limbs. Plummeting temperatures and icy winds played havoc with my fragile circulation. My face developed a curious yet radiant glow, five ungloved fingers turned a shade of mauve and I sensed a fading heartbeat. With a rusty back swing and shy follow through it felt like a matter of time before my arms snapped off like a twig.
Not dissimilar to a scene from a Coen brother’s film, my carcass experienced its very own urban unrest. It was all I could do to putt out on the 18th securing a pyrrhic victory. A hollow satisfaction which left me bruised and bemused by the whole arctic experience.
My first round of golf this year was a bust, but I’ve since had time to regroup in the warmth of my centrally heated lodgings and here’s my theory. With the big freeze sweeping into Britain today, it is either embrace the elements or embrace the Middle East.
Anyone for golf?
GOLFMADCHICK 
Pingback: Welcome to Australia | GOLFMADCHICK
Pingback: A Lovely Day For It | GOLFMADCHICK
Winter plays havoc with the game. Played Saturday in ankle deep mud. today anything that hit the green bounced straight through. Best bit was getting back in the warm. Have been going out in all sorts of weather for years. Sit tight and wait for spring would make more sense.
GG
Thanks GG, wise advice, particularly the words ‘sit tight’ and ‘spring’.
Walk down first, double bogey (not taking glove off to putt cos its too cold), then work out which hole brings you closest to clubhouse before turn. Walk in, drink two pints, go home with car heater on full. That’s winter golf. Roll on spring
The only part of that sentence that appeals is the ‘two pints’ 🙂
Wimp
No argument there
Hi,
i don’t know how you manage in really cold weather, I live in the tropics so I know I wouldn’t be leaving that beautiful central heating. 😀
Ha I know exactly what you mean and as the first gentle flakes of snow are now descending it may prove a tougher battle to get me out than I first imagined.