A momentous vote took place yesterday. A centuries-old organisation asked its members to decide on a life-changing event – and they voted yes. The Royal & Ancient in St Andrews was asking members about whether women should be allowed membership to this male-only bastion.
To be honest, I don’t really have a problem with this – apparently there are quite a few women-only golf clubs in the UK (upon which another decision will be announced today, but thought I’d steer clear of that), and as long as there are some of both I’m quite happy. Although I bet there aren’t any British Open championships held at the ladies’ clubs.
However, the point is that I have a bit of spare time on my hands and, this being the case, my Australian friend Diane cannot understand why I don’t take up this old Scottish tradition of wasting a good walk.
I’m not adverse to learning golf – I’ve been to Braid Hills and bashed a few out on the driving range and enjoyed a rather fine bowl of soup afterwards. I can see the rewards of doing something of a weekend afternoon now that most of my children no longer need me as a taxi driver.
I need a sport or hobby, I suppose, and it would help in my quest to do the 10,000 steps a day that apparently I am required to execute to stave off an early death. Don’t suppose the fags and booze are taken into consideration. So I am closer to becoming a golf bunny, or whatever they are called.
Diane has said that she’s taking me for some lessons by someone at whom I shall not shout, my previous having been undertaken by him indoors when angry words were exchanged.
Perhaps like any vote something good will come out of it. If I can lose a bit of weight that’s just a bonus – and if any man apart from my husband wants a game, please get in touch.