Sir mae. The original plan was to play 3 or 4 days in Wales, across Ryder Cup weekend. Original plans don??t always come to fruition though. In the world of puregolf2010 they seldom do. purerollingwiththepunches2010. Plan B involved playing a solitary round in The Land of St David, at none other than Southerndown, on Ryder Cup Friday. With a local chap named Lynn Dunster ?? certainly the most Welsh Welshman I??ve ever met; a real character.
Weather forecasters predicted heavy precipitation for the Porthcawl area, but it was only spitting when we passed through Southerndown??s gates. (As a side note, the turn off to the golf club is made when you see possibly the most fantastically named pub in the world, The Pelican In Her Piety!). The course lies up on a hill overlooking Wales?? highest ranked course (Royal Porthcawl) and Europe??s largest Caravan park (haven??t the foggiest). Lynn pointed out other interesting sites too, like old mines and the like. There??s a lot of history around these parts.
Having got caught up in the Ryder Cup traffic coming out of Bristol we were 5 minutes late, but Lynn didn??t seem to mind. Time rolls by at a different pace in Wales, it seems. Without further adieu our trio made our way to the 1st tee ?? past a few sheep ?? and got to work. Straight away you??re confronted with a steeply uphill opening par 4 that on this occasion was directly into the wind too. I pulled 2 iron for prudence (there is gorse lining both sides) but hardly made the carry to the fairway. From there it was my Sunday best 2 iron again to even get close to the green. Michael and I looked at each other with mutual understanding that we could be in for a test.
Lynn may be one of the greatest storytellers I??ve ever met; perfect company on a gloomy day in Wales. Up the 1st hole he was telling us about people he??s caddied for (something he does in his spare time, because he??s a sociable creature and likes the company) and a bit about the surrounding area. On the 2nd he told Goldy he had ??about 270? to the green for his second ?? an analysis I thought to be questionable at best, particularly when Goldy hit a 4 iron to the front of the green. Over the next few holes we came to realise that his yardages were more indicative of whether the shot was a long one or a short one; the numbers themselves didn??t really bear any resemblance to the actual distance from the flag! I??d almost look forward to Mike asking for a yardage, to hear what Lynn would bark out...God Bless Him. Another endearing attribute of Lynn??s was his pronunciation of the word ??hear? - which sounded more like ??yur?. Having only met one or two Welshman I can only assume this is how they all say it.
By the 3rd the rain started falling in spades. In the spirit of hyperbole, I??ll say it was the heaviest rain of the year. It may well have been. I didn??t even have my waterproof trousers with me either. Nor did the rain clouds relent; they kept rolling and rolling in, all the way until about the 16th ?? by which time we were drenched to the core. Comedic is one word for it. Lynn was ever unflappable, and the heavier the rain got the more encouraged he appeared to be to share a story or two.
Despite the monsoon the golf course, as far as I could make out, was quality. The greenkeepers (a herd of sheep) had done a tremendous job in preparing the course for Ryder Cup tourism as well. However we caught them slacking off in a valley adjacent to the 4th green, pretending to ??clear bracken? being their explanation. [This author has it on good authority that they have subsequently been disciplined ?? although each of the herd retained their employment].
Lynn ?? who reminded me of that bald character in Auf Wiedersehen Pet! ?? had a new story to tell each hole. The first one I can remember centres around a chap he used to caddy for, a good golfer whose initials unfortunately are the same as mine (JP ?? I won??t mention his full name). Well, this JP got caught ?? after several warnings from the local constabulary to clean his act up ?? dressed up in women??s clothes in the golf club lavatory doing things with another man that he shouldn??t have! (I think his membership was suspended and he may even have ended up in the slammer).
Then there was the story of Lynn??s good friend who sadly passed away, his dying wish being that his ashes be scattered on the 10th green (it??s a particularly scenic hole). His wish was granted, but no sooner had the family marched back down the hill towards the clubhouse, than a vigilant assistant greenkeeper (this time, a human one) spotted what he thought was some sand that had blown out of the greenside bunker. So he sucked it up with one of those leaf gatherers. Oh dear.
If Lynn to us appeared quite the rascal, his pal Charlie would be in a class of his own. This lad??s a butcher, and for a certain ladies competition one year donated a whole chicken as a prize. Except, it??s what he did with the chicken that is the interesting bit. While all the ladies were out on the course battling it out, Charlie inserted the (raw) chicken into the tea tanker ?? from which the girls would drink their tea later that day, and for weeks to come! When the prank was uncovered, Charlie was suspended for 3 months from the club!
I could go on, but I will bore you no longer. By the time we reached the 18th green we were weary from the elements and had sore abdominals from laughing (his visual depiction of one of the golf club staff as a Walrus nearly spelled the end). If anyone??s going to Southerndown, make sure you ask whether Lynn??s available to caddy ?? a once in a lifetime experience.
In the clubhouse ?? which is full of interesting memorabilia ?? we had designs to watch a spot of the big match going on down the road. Except it wasn??t going on (surprise, surprise: Celtic Manor??s cut in a clay valley). So we had sausages, beans and chips to warm the pipes up and a pint of the local stuff (Brains, not bad); and chatted some more. Our only experience of Welsh hospitality could not have been any better. Lynn Dunster, you made our day.
JP (not the one that wears women??s clothes and gets up to mischief with other men in golf club toilets)
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