Playing A Round

Today I played my first round of proper golf. Ok, well when I say "played", I mean hit the ball occasionally and walked a bit. When I say "proper", I mean on a nine hole course, which techncially is only half a round. But it was golf - sort of.
My golfing partner Buffy has been out practising every week since our golf lessons. I've been out shopping and escorting my visitors around.
She turned up in a natty little Addidas top and tight black crops. I wore a baseball cap from K Mart.
There is more to golf than just playing, I discovered. There is a whole etiquette involved. For example, what is the rule about handbags? No one ever tells you about that during a lesson. I was just at the point of committing a terrible faux par by taking mine out onto the course when I discovered my new golf bag had lots of pockets. It is great - just like a giant handbag. I quickly filled all the pockets with money, bottles of water, tissues and the like before realising they are actually for more technical stuff like golf balls and tees.
Luckily I had sensibly removed all the little plastic bags from the top of the clubs just before Buffy came to collect me. It hadn't even occurred to me that I would need balls and tees, I just sort of assumed they'd be left lying around the course somehow.
It was a pleasantly sunny morning and we got off to a great start. This was so easy. I was able to pull my shiny new bag along on a trolley, stop, hit the ball, then carry on. Like sport without the exercise.
The course was cleverly marked out with numbered flags so we knew where to go next. I secretly sniggered (well actually not so secretly) as Buffy hit a ball straight into a tree and it never fell out again. She responded with enormous sympathy as my ball landed straight in the water. Twice.
By hole 5 the novelty was wearing off. The temperature was rising. This was hard work. I thought a par 3 course meant 3 holes, not that you were meant to get the ball into the hole in only 3 shots. (I bet even Tiger Woods can't do that).
By the eigth hole the sun was beating down and I began to feel faint. This was ridiculous. Who plays golf in 95 degrees anyway?
But suddenly we were at the ninth and final hole. Oh good. Luckily we weren't keeping score because it would have been too embarrassing. (For me, not Buffy).
"What are those people doing walking in front of us, they should know better," said Buffy indignantly.
Well, I thought, they have certainly broken the etiquette rules. Just walking straight over the green as we were about to tee off. How rude. Typical Americans. Still, it did give me a chance to sit under a tree to draw breath.
As I sat, I noticed Buffy walking backwards and forwards. Then she gave a silly laugh.
"Whoops," she said. "Their flag says number 5, we should be facing the other way."
My rest over, I reluctantly wobbled up, my hair dripping in sweat under my $2.99 hat, my knees covered in mud. I completed the course (probably with a score of 540) before virtually passing out on a nearby bench. Never again.
"That was great," said Buffy, bounding up beside me. "Same time next week!"