Poetry and pitching – you’d never have guessed, would you?
Here’s a quick little post from the Armchair Golf Blog, citing the little ditty to be found at Royal Birkdale encouraging golfers to replace the divots they churn up as they make their way around its golf course, rapidly approaching 125 years standing.
Like the armchair golf blog, I rarely get out on to the fairways and greens – it’s these confounded hips, you know?
In the spirit of adding rhyme where reason seems deplete, I thought I’d compose my own little passage to sum up the good and bad of being confined to a recliner, watching the world of golf slowly flit through a 21.5″ HD Benq monitor every day, rather than get out there on the course and spend as long, if not longer, in the 19th…
Title: Hip-flask to hip surgery
E’en ‘fore my op the green and tee
Often quite eluded me;
Now I sit and write, for succour
No more curse I that little…golf ball
Read, share, enjoy…
…TTFN, Thet Watson. x
See on armchairgolfblog.blogspot.fr