Richard invests in a course planner but, at £5 a throw, the rest of us are too tight to follow suit. It confirms what we suspected – as the name suggests, that this is not a course for the faint-hearted. It’s long and tight, with lots of water, trees and the odd fiendishly-placed bunker just in case it wasn’t difficult enough already. It will suit golfers who hit the ball  long and straight but, unfortunately, I’m not blessed with either of those attributes, and neither are many of our party. A couple of them are capable of it, but it’s usually one or the other. This is certainly not a course to play with a hangover, which is a little unfortunate as approximately twelve of us appear to have one, to varying degrees.

Alan asks at the pro shop if they have any cheap caps. This elicits a look of distain and he’s pointed towards their display of ‘cheap caps’, which start at about twenty quid. He decides not to bother and, duly chastened, beats a hasty retreat.

Phil kisses his ball and says lovingly (if a bit wierdly) to it “stay with me”, then promptly put it in the lake. This turns out to be the start of a bit of a trend (more on this later).

On the second hole I tempt fate by commenting on the fact the ladies tee is only about six feet in front of the men’s and that even Jules and I, the shortest hitters in our four-ball, should have no trouble in hitting past it. Which we do. Sadly, though, and much to the amusement of the other three, I only manage to hit my ball about two feet past it, narrowly avoiding the time-honoured penalty which all male golfers will be familiar with.

Judging by the array of pink faces, its obvious that most of us didn’t bring any sun cream. This is largely because it’s been persisting it down for the last month and we all expected this weekend to be the same. But we were wrong and today’s weather was fabulous. All the evidence points to Julian being the only one who brought any (and not offering to share it), given that he’s completely white. In fairness, this is his natural hue, but no-one knows how he manages to sustain it. He does, after all, go out in daylight fairly often. Mike takes the prize for the pinkest face, with Dave coming in a fairly close second.

We have a ‘guess how many balls we lost today’ competition. We all pay a pound and guess the total number of balls that the twelve of us lost. We then all confess (in secret) how many we lost individually and tot them up. Go on, have a guess, but do bear in mind that this was quite a challenging course (see today’s opening paragraph). The answer is a staggering 67 balls, at an average of almost six per player (5.58333 recurring to be precise), with three people, who will remain nameless (not me, by the way), losing ten. At about £3 per ball (except for Mike P, who buys his from car boot sales for about £2 a dozen) this equates to just over £200-worth between us. Today would have been a good day to buy shares in Titleist.

Mike N attempts to justify his groove-scraping activity (dubbed “the finger of God” incident by Chris) as the perfectly legal “removing of loose impediments. Nice try Mike.

Day 3 – Pyle and Kenfig Golf Club

There are but two items on my shopping list today – sun cream and golf balls. I still have a pink face from yesterday and I suspect that the one ball left in my bag won’t be enough if the last two days are anything to go by. Unfortunately the pro shop is closed so I can’t buy either. Julian and Mike N come to my rescue, Jules with a dollop of his sun cream and Mike with a dozen balls from the huge stash he has in his car.  As it happens I manage to complete my round without losing a ball, which is a minor miracle.

On the course :

On the first tee and for some reason I’m getting an inordinate amount of stick from certain members of the opposition, who seem to be suggesting that my play was a bit slow yesterday. I refute this entirely as I certainly wasn’t any slower than some others, who shall remain nameless, and, in any case, they seem to have forgotten that the eight-strong group of hackers two matches in front of us delayed us all by over twenty minutes at the start. They seem to have an issue with the fact that I occasionally chuck a bit of grass up in the air to check the direction and strength of the wind, which isn’t uncommon for us thinking golfers. Then they start giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls and one of them hands me a small tin with “a present for Oz” scrawled on he lid in marker pen. I open it to find some grass inside – they tell me it’s so that I don’t have to waste time bending down to get my own. Laugh? I nearly started!

Richard tells us that he’s feeling good this morning. He starts the day’s proceedings, topping his drive into the rough about twenty yards in front of the tee. After a brief search, he finds his ball and, with an audience of eleven, attempts to play out. He fails spectacularly and eventually picks up for a blob on the first hole.

Mike P asks “where’s my bag?”. There are four bags next to us, three blue and grey and one bright red one. Guess which one is Mike’s.

After chipping into a greenside bunker, I’m delighted to see a sign in it that says “bunker not in play”. I take my free drop then thin the ball across the green into a bunker on the other side.

Mark B plays a great chip shot onto the green from a horrible position in the rough, then drains a thirty foot put to keep the scores level. Mike and I are pleased for him and offer our congratulations. Mark then drives into the rough on the next hole – twice. Mike and I commiserate with him, as that’s only fair.

After a close contest Mike and I end our match two points up. Richard and Chris managed to claw back a five point deficit to end their match level and it’s the same result in the third match. This means that our team are two up for the day and we’ve won the trophy by a margin of seven points.

In the bar :

Chris owns up to a small faux pas in a previous year when he was one of the captains. He ordered some special Abersoch Open golf balls for everyone but they arrived with the name incorrectly spelt as “Abesoch”. Before calling the supplier to complain he checked the order form and, yes, it was him who had spelt it wrong.

The prize money is presented – £10 for each ‘nearest the pin’ winner and £10 each to the winning team members. I gratefully pocket my twenty quid and wonder if the professionals feel as chuffed when they pocket their winnings. More importantly, Mike P is then presented with the coveted Abersoch Open trophy.

And that’s it. All over for another year. Three great days of golf – as distinct from three days of great golf. But the entertainment value has been huge even if the quality has occasionally been a bit suspect.

I’ve managed to spend a whole weekend away with Richard without him even coming close to starting a fight, which is always a bonus – and anyway, that’s Chris’s job, and he’s managed to avoid it too. We’ve all enjoyed each other’s company and had a real laugh, as usual. Three fried breakfasts in as many days plus two huge dinners and copious quantities of beer have no doubt wrought havoc with my six-pack ambitions but it’s been another tremendously enjoyable weekend.

Planning for next year started about three minutes after the trophy was presented and no doubt the handicap negotiations will commence soon.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading about our exploits as much as I’ve enjoyed writing about them. Normal service, Oz’s Blog-wise will, as they say, be resumed shortly.