In a rather idllyic corner of the Home Counties nestles the world famous Sunningdale Golf Cub, 36 holes of glorious rolling heathery heath that has seen its share of top-class golf and golfers over its 117 year history. And this week this little corner of England has once again witnessed the delightfully special tournament that is the Sunningdale Foursomes.  The club’s website describes it thus:  “A unique competition played since 1934 and open to Professional and Amateur, Men and Ladies.  Played under special handicap.”  Any combination of pairing is acceptable and top-class players and recognisable names litter the draw sheet.  This year two Open champions were in the field – Paul Lawrie and Sandy Lyle – and down the years hosts of Ryder Cup players have tried their luck.

Plenty of sand on the 17th and 18th of the Old at Sunningdale.  Don’t worry if you find it, it’s your partner’s problem then!

As an amateur pairing in the 1980s my fellow Irish international colleague Mary McKenna and I benefited from the slightly skewed handicapping system that would see us the recipients of 11 shots if we were playing two male professionals.  Even though we played from the same tees we were completely capable of scoring in the mid 70s, which provided an almost insurmountable task for many of our opponents.  In the space of half a dozen years or so we sailed into three finals and a couple of semis.  The majority of matches were on the Old course but you couldn’t make your way through the draw without at least one match on the New course, where we felt we were slightly more vulnerable.

One of the highlights of any match was the almost obligatory refuelling stop at the renowned sausage hut, situated at the back of the 10th greens on both courses.  On one occasion, having completed ten holes on the New, Mary was enjoying her sausage sandwich, leaning against the doorway of the hut.  Leaning on the other side of the doorway was Sam Torrance with his Ryder Cup partner and friend, Irishman John O’Leary.  They had just completed ten holes on the Old and were keen to see how we were doing but didn’t want to speak too loudly in case our opponents were nearby.

So Sam, in his best 007 style, stared straight ahead and spoke out of the side of his mouth:  “How are you doing, Mary?”

McKenna never missed a beat and, without so much as turning her head, said from the side of her mouth, “We’re finished.”

Sam suffered an immediate choking fit and never did get to enjoy finishing that particular sandwich. Mary, however, thoroughly enjoyed hers as it had long been her ambition to finish off one of our matches by the time we got to the hut.  Her killer instinct was always alive and kicking.

There are a few names – and partnerships – in the 2017 draw that I recognise from our day, namely Andrew Hall (Sand Martins) and Andrew Reynolds (Royal Cinque Ports).  I suspect they’ve played every year since.  How’s that for resilience, eternal optimism and keeping old age at bay?   The two Andrews formed their illustrious partnership when assistants at Sunningdale and I cannot think of a pairing who have got more enjoyment from the week.  They played two matches this year, each going the full distance, so they are still obviously intent on testing ageing nerves.  If anyone knows of  a longer partnership in this event do let me know.

Andrew H

Andrew R

It is the understated nature of the event that is so appealing – dogs make up the largest part of the gallery, there are no sponsors’ signs – and it is golf at its purest.  Enjoyably serious but seriously enjoyable.

I was going to do my golfing week in pictures this week but Maureen’s opinion, in terms that were unprintable, was that almost all of my photos were unusable, so words there must be.

On Saturday, I went to meditation – nearly an hour of not talking, miraculous and very uplifting – and then Graham Rowley, founder of OldSportsAuction.com pitched up and returned all my unsold items, a carload almost.  Oh dear, and the decluttering was going so well (ish).  Will have to re-read Marie Kondo’s Life-changing Magic of Tidying and consider eBay.  And there’s always the archivists of the R&A.  Like me, they hate waste!

The boxes are back, full of goodies. Really.

Sunday was a tough old day:  tai chi, a real joy; then up to the golf club for the captains’ drive-in and lunch as the guest of this year’s captain of vice; the rain held off just long enough for the nine drivers-in to make respectable passes at the ball; and even better Spurs beat Everton 3-2.  Lovely.

My dancing partner, one of Whittington Heath’s many lefties.

Curtsey of the day at the drive-in.

Monday started with the brain cell being activated at a lesson on how to do online booking.  I know, I know, we’re a bit slow on the uptake but we are moving creakily into the 21st century and even I have now put money in my competition purse and entered two competitions online.  Hooray.  It was such a lovely day that I went out and played nine holes, on my own, starting at the 10th.  The experienced 3-ball coming up the 9th said they were going in at the turn and the long-hitting 2-ball comprising the club champion and a sweet-swinging, dreadlocked cage fighter arrived just before I teed off, so they went on and I watched as they both hoicked some sort of iron (who needs a driver?) into the trees on the left!  They straightened themselves out and I had a blissful, unhassled 9 holes of some good shots, some bad.

There were more bad shots than good in the comp on Tuesday morning but my partner and I got round dry in just under three hours (it was our shorter Heathland course, admittedly) and I had time for lunch before heading up the A38 to Mansfield for Dave Musgrove’s funeral.  Muzzy could be a dour, grumpy old bugger when he chose but he had a smile that lit up the room and a dry wit and down-to-earth wisdom that made him a joy to be with.  He lived all his life in Kirkby-in-Ashfield and was a member of Coxmoor for at least half a century.  From there, after starting his caddying at the sublime Hollinwell (Notts GC), he travelled the world.

Muzzy, one of the best.

His first Open was at St Andrews in 1964, when he caddied for Jean Garaialde.  They played the last two rounds with Tony Lema, who won the title but was to die in a plane crash two years later.  Muzzy went on to caddie for Seve Ballesteros and, most famously, for Sandy Lyle, with whom he won the Open and the Masters.  Sandy spoke at the funeral.

Muzzy also caddied for Lee Janzen, who had to take a language course to understand him but they coped well enough, winning a US Open together and The Players’ Championship, a huge event with a huge prize fund.  “Can I retire now?” Hilary, Dave’s wife, asked.  “No,” he said.  “But I can!”

Hillie pre-deceased Muzzy but he wasn’t alone in his last few years because he and Arlene, also widowed, got together.  They had known each other since childhood and enjoyed their time together, brief though it was.  Our thoughts go out to her and the rest of Dave’s family and friends.

It was a bit of a sad old drive from Coxmoor, where the wake was held, to Cheshire that evening but Maureen and I played golf at Delamere Forest the next morning, on a glorious day and life went on.  You have to enjoy it while it lasts.  Delamere holds a host of memories for Mo, who used to have lessons there from Denis Comboy and became great friends with him and his wife Carol, a stalwart of Cheshire, English and British and Irish golf.

Dogs are pretty well obligatory at Delamere so Lola, the American bulldog, a golfing novice, helped us out.

It was Mo’s first 18 holes since her shoulder surgery and despite her local knowledge she couldn’t quite cope with giving me 13 shots (it should have been 14 but she miscalculated!).  It had all started so well, with me making a complete hames of the 10th, our first hole and Mo starting birdie, birdie but I holed from off the green for a half (with a stroke) at the 11th, settled down and won 3 and 2.  Hooray!

We were having our post-round cuppa while the Lamberts from The Golf Guide were setting up for their comp the next day.  It was the first event in their “Race to Mauritius” and their other venues include Royal St David’s, Bamburgh Castle, Ganton and Silloth, to name just a few.  None of your rubbish!  Have a look at www.the golfguide.co.uk for details.

The Golf Guiders getting ready for action at Delamere.

There’s a well known adage to “beware the sick or injured golfer” but, believe you me – and as many of you reading this well know – being injured is zero fun.  And if you are a professional sportsperson, it can be so serious that fun doesn’t come into it at all.

Many years ago my playing career was somewhat derailed by a serious back injury which resulted in surgery.  Thank you to David Jaffrey at Gobowen  for his expertise and particularly neat sewing!   Decades of back exercises and maintenance mean that most of the time I can now play golf pretty much when I like but it doesn’t seem to take too much to crock me or for my back to go on me – now assuredly anno domini as much as anything else, I suspect.

Cast an eye down the lists of touring professionals, most of whom are supreme athletes nowadays and at any given time it is easy to reel off numerous names who are out of action.

Rory:  sidelined by ribs

Inbee:  a long road to recovery

Rory has rib trouble at the moment;  Tiger has undergone copious knee and back ops and has withdrawn from several tournaments; Jim Furyk has had long term wrist injuries; and in Thailand this week Inbee Park returns to the competitive arena for the first time since she won the gold medal in Rio six months ago.  A damaged left thumb kept her out of action and she had to call on all her reserves of determination and stubbornness even to play in the Olympics.

No matter how lowly or lofty our standard of play we share one thing in common:  golfers are much happier people when they can play golf.  Sure, we may take time to get back into the swing after a lay-off, we may have to readjust our goals and even our reasons for playing may change a little.  I now find that I have no desire to go out with a card and pencil despite loving that format for years.  Frequently there is a mental adjustment to be made to accommodate a decline in standard – something good players often find hard to do – but there is still so much fun to be had.

I’m currently recovering from shoulder surgery and the congenial company of three of Dunham Forest’s finest the other day was as good as a tonic.  A new course and new friends – what’s not to like?

Linda, Annette and Pat showing me how to play Dunham Forest

Remember, there is more than one way to play this great game.  There is no right or wrong way.  It is simply about finding the way that is easiest for you and your physical capabilities.  That applies to all of us, even the Rorys and Tigers of this world.  So, do what happy golfers do – get out and play!

Jill Edwards, a former chairman and president of both the Ladies’ Golf Union and the Welsh Ladies’ Golf Union, has lent madillgolf.com a veritable treasure trove of golfing lore, namely a chest full of that renowned and much-loved women’s golf magazine of yesteryear, Douglas Caird’s Fairway and Hazard.

A veritable treasure trove

An indulgent hour of leafing through these old favourites was just what I needed after a week that saw Brian (husband) have surgery to reattach his triceps and elbow to the bits they’re supposed to be attached to.  They had parted company after a nasty fall on an icy pavement in London and I chose that very same time to succumb to a dreaded lurgy that has kept me indoors, mostly in bed, for four out of the last five days.  So, what better than a little indulgence of the reminiscing kind?  It wasn’t long before I was stepping back in time.

What are the following ingredients the recipe for:  the month of March, snowy weather, creaky, unoiled golf swings and the Red and Blue courses of The Berkshire Golf Club?  Mix them all together with a liberal dose of competition and laughter and it can only be the Avia Foursomes, the season’s opener, our very own Augusta, signalling the arrival of another year of competitive golf.  Welcome to 72 holes of the unpredictability that only foursomes golf can bring and such was the Avia’s popularity it ended up being over-subscribed every year, with all the best British and Irish players attending, as well as some of the best Continentals.

Get out your thermals!

I played first in 1980 although I didn’t intend to.  I was at home in Portstewart and had gone out for a run along the strand in a vague attempt to up my fitness levels.  Upon my return, Dad (home from the office for his lunch) said, “Douglas Caird rang for you.  He wanted to know if you’d play with Linda Bayman in the Avia.”  Douglas was the editor and publisher of Fairway and Hazard and, along with Joan Rothschild, organiser-in-chief of the tournament.  Linda was an eminent English internationalist who had won this prestigious title on five previous occasions.  Truth to tell, I was in awe and so somewhat horrified at Dad’s easy arrangement with Douglas that “of course Maureen’ll play.”

Linda and I met for the first time in the car park of The Berkshire at the start of the week.  We never looked back, winning on our debut and following it up with high place finishes on a few occasions.  I think we may even have won it another time.  Those details I tend to forget now, but not others.

There was the thrill of playing two great courses and the marvellous opportunity to spend some serious dosh in Keith Macdonald’s pro’s shop, which he and his wife Ivy stocked to the gunnels for the week.  One of the highlights was the totally green window display on one of the competition days each year, a nod to St Patrick’s Day and the large, noisy, visiting Irish contingent.  The clubhouse food was superb and constant.  Coping with more than 300 women golfers for a week, The Berkshire never missed a beat, providing endless supplies of towels and drying facilities for bodies and equipment.  The week finished on a high with a hilarious prize-giving and speechifying from all section winners.

The Berkshire – hard to beat at any time of year

The Avia was an integral part of the season for all those keen to advance their careers and realise their ambitions but above all it was FUN.  A 72-hole strokeplay foursomes tournament was a tremendous test and more’s the pity it has exited the calendar.  Am I the only one sick of all the super-serious golf our young squad players are expected to play?  If golf is made to seem like work it soon will be.  The greatest work is achieved when it’s so enjoyable you don’t even realise it’s happening and the time flies past.  Viva the Avia!