The Power of Nine Ashbury Manor Monday 21st September 2020

 Today dawned sunny and bright,  perfect weather for a Texas Scramble on the Beeches course. Teams were to be, first off Mick, John, and Andy; second on the tee, Nigel R, Keith and Bill; finally Chris, Graham and myself. As there was to be no restrictions on the driving and we had a big hitter in Chris, I quite fancied our chances. Fate was to intervene to shake things up a little. 

First of all, can I explain a little of the arrangements. Because these courses get a lot of use twelve months of the year, wear is minimised by the compulsory use of a buggy which is driven on a  paved pathway. You then walk out onto the fairway (or elsewhere) to play your shot. However the buggies can be used on the course itself by the elderly and infirm. Such people are given a blue flag. You can see at least two of these being sported by us in the picture above. 

 

Devon is, of course famous for being the ninth biggest county in England but also for its attractive scenery which is a result of the undulating countryside. The hills and hollows are incorporated into the design of the courses with several holes plunging into the deep dark unknown, obliging the fearful golfers to hit and hope. The tors on the horizon are part of Exmoor. The Ashbury Manor Centre boasts five full eighteen hole courses making ninety holes, add to this the nine hole academy course and you have a total of ninety nine holes, remarkable. 

Meanwhile back to the Texas Scramble all was not going well. We were last group out but didn't expect to encounter two of the group ahead of us waiting beside the fairway having been joined by a couple of buggies from the office. It transpired that Shep attempting to re-enter his buggy had hit his head on the buggy roof sufficiently hard to render himself unconscious. "How could you tell?" asked the unkind; "A stich in time saves nine" advised the attendant officials. "Doctor's orders," we thought as Bill kindly volunteered to drive Keith back to his room and keep an eye on him for the rest of the day. The third member of that particular trio had joined the group ahead making them four and the competition effectively decided. Readers will, I think, be pleased to know that Keith had not breached his ninth life and was fit and well enough to rejoin us next morning, when his golf seemed to have improved. 

Hustler John Davey attempting an unlikely cut on the pink. Note the extreme social distancing measures enforced in the snooker hall. We had a huge range of evening activities to amuse ourselves with and supplement the drinking. 

Graham's ideas of pass the parcel and musical chairs were both rejected by Chris as being contrary to the government's guidance on sane things to do in a pandemic but I personally felt that if we were to consult the government, they wouldn't be quite so sure. 

Tuesday was scheduled for a Stapleford competition on the longest and most challenging course on the complex, the Kigbeare, at 6528 yards and par 72. Let's have a look at three hopeful starters. 

Here is Keith, now happily a restored to his usual self. Perhaps we can criticise the front foot, but his weight is on his back foot and head well down. He goes on to make a solid first drive. 

Here Nigel is giving it his usual 110%. You can see the flex in the shaft but the hips are coming through a little early with the resulting out to in swing line, thus endangering the trees to the right rather than the green keeper on the tractor. 

Well, what can I say? Everything is absolutely perfect! I just cannot understand why the ball ends up going right into the trees. 

The third hole on the Kigbeare is the signature one. A 205 yd par 3 with a 50 ft drop to the green but requiring a 180 yd carry over the the Hookmoor Brook. There is a steep bank beyond the stream to the green that is protected on 3 sides by mature trees. Pars are well earned here. Sadly I have no pictures of it, so you will have to use your imagination here.

 

Keith's relationships with buggies took a further turn today. Gossip in the buggy garage overnight resulted in all the buggies being aware of Keith's headbutt on one of their own and retribution was plotted. 

Nigel R and I followed Keith's buggy up the slope to the aforementioned third tee. We couldn't but help noticing that his progress was stately to say the least. Having both parred the hole we moved on to the fourth tee. We waited and waited and waited but still no Keith so we drove off. Two holes later Keith rejoined us, "Buggy broke down ". Were we surprised? 

Ten pin bowling was on the menu tonight for most of us after dinner had gone down.