My Accidental Love Affair With Golf

If you’d asked me a couple of years ago whether I’d ever pick up a golf club, the answer would’ve been a firm, confident, absolutely-not-in-this-lifetime. My previous attempts — all two of them — had ended before I’d even escaped the first hole. I’d swing heroically, miss disastrously, and walk away wondering why on earth anyone voluntarily did this for fun.

And honestly? For years, golf felt like this slightly mysterious, slightly posh hobby that the lads (my sons) suddenly migrated to when they retired their cricket bats and rugby boots. I remember thinking, Really? This is what we’re doing now? It all looked very “middle-management-on-a-Friday-afternoon” to me. Not quite my scene.

To add to my very scientific impressions, back when I worked with a woman who ran a golf club (many, many moons ago), she’d tell me stories about the lady golfers who’d breeze in and order half of half a prawn sandwich and — brace yourself — half a cup of tea. The whole thing felt part posh, and absolutely not an environment I imagined myself thriving in. So no, “lady golfer” was not on my retirement bingo card.

So How on Earth Did I End Up Playing Golf?

Quite simply: grandchildren.Those tiny humans have a way of derailing your entire worldview without even trying.

My grandson — all four years old and barely up to my waist — can already swing a club with more confidence than I have in the supermarket self-checkout. Visits to the driving range became our little outing: a hit of fresh air, a whack at a few balls, and a completely necessary ice cream afterwards. I still couldn’t hit the ball to save my life, but the seed had been planted.

Then the holidays came along — family trips where the men played golf, the women sometimes played golf, and I… did not. Until suddenly the kids joined in, and there I was, the sole non-golfer in the group, left holding the snacks. That was the moment. My tiny nudge from the universe.

Getting Started… With Style (Sort Of)

When I finally told my son I was tempted to try properly, he gave me the wisest advice:“Go straight for lessons — that way you don’t pick up bad habits.”

Sounded sensible. So last November, I threw myself in. And let me tell you: those early lessons were humbling. My instructor clocked immediately that he had a true beginner on his hands — a clean slate, if you’re being generous, a lost cause if you’re being brutally honest.

Most lessons were on the driving range (safer for everyone), and between cancellations, holidays, and life getting in the way, I only managed about five or six sessions between November and May. I did, however, discover I might have a secret talent for putting — possibly leftover skills from childhood pitch-and-putt dates.

Some lessons felt endless, others disappeared in a flash. On the best days, my instructor would let me go 15 minutes over, and I’d leave feeling like a slightly more coordinated version of myself.

Enter: My First Proper Game

Here’s the thing: I had convinced myself golf courses were full of people judging your outfit. I genuinely thought you needed to look like you were modelling for a golfing catalogue before you even stepped on the grass.

Turns out, times have changed. I showed up slightly overdressed, clutching my sunglasses, water bottle, and phone like a woman preparing for a minor expedition. The weather, naturally, turned cold and grey after a week of sunshine. Perfect.

But then… it happened.I played.And — whisper it — I enjoyed it.

The course was beautiful. My instructor was patient. I did not humiliate myself. And the first ball?Perfect. Flying straight and true like it had been waiting years to prove me wrong.

The second ball? Straight into a pond.The third? Quite possibly another pond — there were a lot of ponds.But hey, I avoided the bunkers, so we’re calling that a win.

I only had to let one group play through, which I count as a small personal triumph.

And Let’s Talk About Technique…

My daughter gives advice like:“Squeeze your boobs with your arms!”(There are mental images I cannot unsee.)

My instructor, on the other hand, used his car keys as an aiming device. Honestly, golf instruction is a wild little world.

Two Hours Later…

I was absolutely shattered. But proud. Properly proud.

I’d played a full round of golf. I’d had fun. And I was already thinking,Alright… when can I do that again?

So will I continue? Yes. Definitely. Probably with fewer balls in water hazards next time, but no promises. The photos here are proof of my continuing golf activities as these are from subsequent golf games with some very patient and supportive friends!!

Would You Give Golf a Go?

I never thought I would. I had my preconceived notions — most of them unfair — and I’ve had to toss them out one by one.

Golf has changed. It feels more inclusive, more relaxed, more “come as you are.” And even if that’s not universally true, my experience has been warm, encouraging, and a surprising amount of fun.

So here it is, your Encore Endeavours nudge:Try the thing you said you’d never try.You might surprise yourself — I certainly did.