holding my golf club like a lady

I met my friend Pip at Albert Park (which is only 35 minutes away by tram, I really need to make it a more frequent destination) and we walked briskly around the lake, mostly bemoaning the difficulty of being a foreigner in Melbourne. Our walk was 5km according to my phone, and took us 56 minutes — time just flew by. Why does running half that time take twice as long?

Then we grabbed some beers and some balls and spent some time being silly at the driving range — not really caring too much about Doing It Properly. I really need to get some coaching; I’ve been working in golf course design for two and a half years now and still can’t get past 75m!

Pip drunk-driving:

With my love for accessories and the memory of aching wrists following our last session, how could I resist my own golf glove? It’s a rather lurid orange-and-white design, but I got a 25% discount on account of how hideous it is. My hands are freakishly small so it’s actually a tad loose, but it still improved the experience considerably!


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