Hot topic: 'In pursuit of my art'

'I'll have a beef bap, please!'

Before the snows came and the ground turned into a concrete blanket, I managed to get 18 holes in yesterday afternoon - purely research, you understand.

I needed to check out what it was like to play in a bitterly cold north-westerly, survive a 50 mph sleet flurry protected only by a 15-foot sapling and check out the latest irons and driver I'd been sent that morning from Mr Srixon.

I was not alone in my adventure, though Malcolm Smith, my left-handed playing partner (still smarting from his 'dog licence' defeat last week), was able to co-suffer the conditions, apart from my right-handed Srixons, of course.

We were all square after seven holes when the clouds darkened and suddenly unloaded a vicious horizontal blizzard of stinging sleet. I got behind the nearest tree, wrapped in sturdy Stuburt waterproofs while Mal sheltered…in a telephone box!

I should explain that this traditional scarlet predecessor to the miniature mobile phone, nestles beside the 9th tee at Greetham Valley Hotel and Country Club, where golfers can call the clubhouse bar and order sustinance on their way to the 10th tee.

When the 10-minute shower abated - there was no one else (that we could see) barmy enough to be out on the course, so that Rule about play being continuous and without delay, was ignored - I chipped up deftly for my par, while Mal emerged from his hide-out to discover he'd lost his ball!

Notice of intent

Having collected my hot beef bap from the clubhouse in dripping waterproofs - it was originally delivered on a plate with a knife and serviette until I requested an insulated paper bag - I then proceeded to lose the next four holes, but recovered to finally lose on the 18th.

There isn't really a moral to this story but thought it might a) give members an idea of what a golf editor has to go through in pursuit of his art (I'll reveal more about the Srixon clubs next week) and b) stimulate other members to tell us on the forum about the worst conditions in which they have played golf.

As for the red telephone box, it's not only a nifty little shelter if you get stranded 400 yards from the clubhouse, but also a welcome dial-a-mid-round-snack facility that perhaps more clubs should invest in.