You know how it goes:

You climb into your car very early in the morning, Drive a 100 miles, play a great game of golf,

Dash to the nearest pub for some well-deserved sustenance, Blag your way on board the ferry to France, consume copious liters of the grain and grape,

Graze through an extensive menu,

Stagger to bed very late, and rock to sleep courtesy of the Westerly winds,

Next day you repeat the process (minus the ferry trip), but with added amounts of alcohol.

Ditto the next day.

Next day you start the return trip to Ireland, taking care to rehydrate the body.

And, just as we all look to go our separate ways in Rosslare Harbour, young Matthew opines .....

“I can’t understand it .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . you guys have spend the past 4 days dashing hither and thither .... without a moment’s rest, playing golf, eating, drinking, travelling.

No time out.

Yet you’re forever telling us young ones in Bushy Park to pace ourselves!!

I just don’t get it”.

Ah .... the sweet Innocence of Youth!

What else is there to tell?

The weather was great, the sailings smooth, the food delicious, the booze delectable, the driving experience in France ...... well, more about that later, the golf challenging, the courses ............. well, more about that later, the crack was mighty.

In truth though, we tried to do too much, too quickly, in too short a time.

Because of the early time of year, the need to tie-in with Easter, the sailing schedules etc .... we were victims of our own scheduling.

Ideally (and this is a topic for considered discussion by next December) we should look to spend 4 nights in France, giving ourselves at least one full day’s break should we so wish.

That would also remove the need to play golf on the day with travel to/from Cherbourg Harbour. Allowing more time to peruse the winecellars of the region!

You seeing a trend here!!

Having honoured tradition by visiting Des Ormes GC, we fell victim to a pattern which repeated itself in France, namely ‘pole forking’.

Lest some of our readers consider this a particularly odious form of cross-nationality oppression, let me describe further. It seems that, due to the time of year, allied to a long dry period, most golf courses in France decided to treat their greens (come on ... stay with me, we’re not talking about the lettuce variety here) by spreading thick layers of sand, and boring lots of holes so that fertilisers and moisture could adequately prepare them for the ravages of the summer season.

It has to be done --- but Whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy do it just before we visit? Another issue to consider before booking for next year.

As ever, we travelled, courtesy of Irish ferries.

At this time of year, there are good travel offers to be had from Irish Ferries.

Visit their award-winning website, where you will find great deals for travel/return from Rosslare >> Cherbourg.

http://www.irishferries.com/

So, other than those minor issues, it was a smooth trouble-free adventure?

Well, not quite.

Let me ask you a question:

You’re driving along a French dual-carriageway, on a glorious sunny Sunday morning.

Practically no traffic, apart from the occasional knobbly-kneed Frenchman careering along on his racing bicycle. The prospects of a challenging game in Omaha Beach Golf Club in the offing.

Last night’s superb meal still causing pleasant after shocks in the digestive system.

Did I mention -- empty roads.

You come to a round-about.

Truly wonderous things, these French roundabouts. (Ronan . . . . please Note)

You could probably fit all of Cavan into one of them.

Did I mention that the day was bright, sunny.

Clear visibility.

I reckon that you might see unhindered for approx. 18.7 kilometers.

As you approach the roundabout, which may be tastefully landscaped, you espy a car approaching stageleft. Determining that the car is indeed about to proceed around the roundabout, for that is what the Good Lord designed them for, you follow the approved method for slowing up and halting.

You do. Halt.

Occasionally glancing in the rear-view mirror.

Where you . . . . . .

Get to watch, in glorious technicolour, the relentless, blind, inevitable approach of a dopey gobshite in his 4x4,

Experience the sickening crunch as he, his beloved voiture, and his myopic missus plough into the back of your classic Honda, which ‘just’ happens to have a trailer attached.

All the better to be mangled.

And then, having summoned up the courage to report to incident to the nearest Gendarmerie, their attitude was basically . . . . . . . . . . . . . No injuries? Right. Get Lost.

C’est la vie.

The moral of the story lies in the fact that we should never have been trying to travel an extra 60 miles on the last day to fit in a game of golf.

And the moral behind that bout of moralising goes back to Matthew’s observation: We should allow ourselves more time. Next year’s trip should aim to spend 4 nights in France. That way we can pace ourselves better.

Remember: We’ll be another year older. Slower. Heavier. Greyer. Wiser.

Well, maybe 4 out of 5!

Birdie Boys:

Peter (2) / Garry (1) / Waller (1) / Matthew (1)

For ‘full screen’ display -- press F11 on your keyboard. When finished, press F11 again to undo effect.

[I had designed a fully-automatic slide presentation, but haven’t yet figured out how to reconcile the different HTML codes. hence you’re stuck with the manual version. Enjoy]

The BPOB Swingers are continuing the successful tactic of taking their undoubted skills to foreign shores.

France is again the lucky recipient -- for the 5th year in a row. Something must be working.

This time the trip is a short weekend outing:

Depart - Thurs April 10th,

Return - Monday April 14th.

In a change of scene, we will be based in the seaport town of Granville.

Golf will, hopefully, consist of 2 outings on the links course at Granville.

We will also pay homage to our heritage by venturing south to our heartland course of Des Ormes.

Will we drink. Will we eat well. Will we tear up the course.

Well, whadda you think?