When we first moved to the Cote d’Azur, my husband drove a 4 x 4 which spent most of its time collecting dust in the garage while he circumnavigated the globe. The move to the Cote d’Azur was supposed to herald a change in lifestyle. In particular, my beloved was looking forward to improving his golf handicap. He’d been a member of a club in the UK, not far from where he’d previously worked in Amersham. It was one of those clubs where you had to become both a shareholder and member and couldn’t relinquish your membership until you sold the shareholding!
My beloved travelled extensively even while working in the UK and therefore had neither the time nor opportunity to play much golf. If I look at how much money was expended on his membership, it was probably around £500 per game! Most of the courses in France are pay and play, no need to be a member, though membership does convey the benefit of much-reduced green fees. My beloved assured me that he’d get his worth from his membership of the local club. I was less convinced but nonetheless paid the membership fee. ,Again, a significant amount of travel plus his growing love of cycling, left him with little time to work on his handicap or profit from his membership. More money wasted on golf.
Prior to moving to France, our belongings were spread across three properties in UK, France and Germany. My beloved had golf kit in all three locations. Once, we moved to France he consolidated and added to his growing collection. One birthday, my two sisters bought him a trolley for his heavy golf bag. Generally, my beloved kept his golf kit in the boot of his 4 x 4 or in our storage cave in the basement, not far from our parking spot in the underground garage.
One week-end, for reasons best known only to my beloved, he took his golf bag and trolley out of the car and left it in full view in our car parking spot. I kept urging him to put everything away. I got quite exasperated with him, fearing someone would take them. My beloved said no one could see them, only our immediate neighbours in the garage. Well, of course, one fine day after about three weeks of nagging him, the cart, the bag and most of his clubs disappeared.
Initially my beloved thought I’d put them away, but I hadn’t, I thought he had! But no, persons unknown had taken them. However, I suspect another golfer took them because the thief knew their clubs as the ropy old ones were left. The thief probably concluded that as they’d been there for three weeks we no longer wanted them and just helped themselves. I was furious with my beloved and, of course, the theft wasn’t covered by our household insurance as he’d left them in an open garage. My beloved can be very cavalier with his possessions, unlike me. He claimed he wasn’t too bothered as he had yet another bag and set of clubs – he did – albeit no golf trolley.
In the ten years or so since the theft he’s barely played any golf, probably no more than half a dozen times. I can’t even remember the last time he played and I have an elephantine memory! There’s two reasons. Firstly, I don’t play golf, it’s not my type of game. I can strike a golf ball quite well thanks to good hand-eye-ball co-ordination but I’m hopeless at putting. In the limited free time he has available, my beloved prefers to ride his bike rather than play golf. I can’t argue with that and it’s something we do together. Maybe when he really retires, he’ll resume playing golf. He’s still got plenty of golf clothing and one full set of clubs and drivers.