Off Jan went to Upham Golf Club,
keen and eager, full of hope.
Open day for would-be members,
Jan felt sure that she could cope.
After all she’d put in practice,
bought the quite expensive kit,
read the lengthy detailed rulebook,
got the grips on clubs to fit.
Introduced to stalwart members,
told to play with them, one round.
Set off swinging from the first tee,
ball in copse, could not be found.
All the others on the fairway,
Jan still flailing by a tree,
then she found the ball all muddy,
whacked it, joined the other three.
Now the diehards, getting tetchy,
noticed Jan was dressed in jeans,
spotted that her shoes were trainers,
not at all like Peregrine’s.
Peregrine was dressed correctly,
in the right and proper dress.
Tailored shorts and leather golf shoes,
Pringle visor, nothing less.
All the four walked blithely onward,
to the tricky thirteenth tee,
Peregrine prepared to drive off
Jan was chatting sociably.
Peregrine looked round in anger
‘Please don’t talk just as I swing –
and your shadow’s right across me,
do you not know anything?’
At the end Jan changed her trainers
In the ladies locker room
It was small and lacking sofas
Windowless and swathed in gloom.
As she walked towards the car park,
thinking of her fickle swing
There the locker room for fellows
Sofas, daylight, everything.
As she left relief engulfed her,
off she drove with clubs in rear,
found another friendly golf club,
one that didn’t mind her gear.
Then next year when Jan was handy
with her clubs, her game was good,
Captain asked her if she’d like to
play a match, she said she would.
Well, the match was played v Upham
Jan was matched with Peregrine.
thrashed him hollow, every hole,
shook hands on the eighteenth green.
At the end the Upham captain
asked Jan if she’d like to join,
‘No’, she said, ‘I think I’d rather
wrench a muscle in my groin’.
Rosie Cantrell