A series of anecdotes with or without any connection to the running of a restaurant.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Crouching Tiger...

A few of our chefs go golfing on Mondays when the restaurants are closed.
I have played on and off in the past and so, when I invited myself to join them, one even let me have his old golf set for a few quid.

Yesterday morning at ten, three of them were waiting for me at the local golf course. I hired a pair of shoes and a trolley, bought a bottle of water and off we went. We spent a few minutes practising on the putting green and then we attacked the first hole. Well, it turned out to be elusive. My ball could not find it. A par four turned out to be an 7 over-par. For those who have not yet fallen in love with Tiger Woods, it took me 11 stokes instead of 4 to get the ball down the hole.
At one stage I thought I was about to collapse with pains in my legs and in my right arm and shoulder. It took a bar of Snickers after the 9th hole to stop me throwing the bar towel.

The only reason I persevered to the end was that I did not want to be a wimp in front of these fit twenty-something year-old chefs. If one of them had handed me a frying pan there and then I would have dropped it. The only thing I still had a strong grip of was my honour.

When the last ball went into the 18th hole, I could hardly breathe a sigh of relief. I should have been inside an oxygen tent. Words failed me to congratulate the winner.

At four o'clock, I dragged myself and my trolley back to the car. By then I could barely lift my golf bag.
"How many bloody clubs, balls and tees does one really need!"

Six hours after I left my favourite chair, I got home and collapsed back into it.

Karen suggested I take a bath.
"But the bathroom is bloody upstairs!" I thought.
I prefer showers but Zoe has got me a bit worried. She claims showers make you gain weight.

I mustered a bit of courage and made my way to the first floor. The climb was so painful I felt like planting the Algerian flag on the landing.
I started filling the bath and climbed into it.
I dozed off a few times in the hour I spent in the soothing warm water, lovingly rubbing my painful shoulder and jellyfied calves.
After a few thoughts of encouragement I persuaded myself to get out of the tub. Persuasion is one thing. Action is another.
With the wall to the left of me I had to use my sore arm to lift myself out. I screamed. No one heard. I managed to grit my teeth and clambered out.

Arriving at work this morning, instead of heading straight to my office, I bravely made the excruciating walk to the kitchen. The chefs were already hard at work. I straightened my shoulders and back and waltzed in.

"Next Monday, then, if you're up to it, lads?"

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Blogger Hayden said...

Hahahaha! When a man screams alone in a tub, does he make a sound? Naw, of course not. So you bravely soldiered on, right?

Now the question is, will you go or will you find some other "pressing engagement?"

14/8/07 3:03 PM  
Blogger Cream said...

Well, come to think about it, Hayden, one of our chefs is getting married next Monday...
Monday, because it is our day off.

14/8/07 5:20 PM  
Blogger la bellina mammina said...

I'm amazed you played 18 instead of just 9. AMAZING! LOL! Hope you feeling better now??

15/8/07 5:05 AM  
Blogger Cherrypie said...

Ouch! Just play the 19th hole next time.

15/8/07 2:30 PM  
Blogger cave renovator said...

A tremendous amount of work you will have every Monday from now on...:-)

15/8/07 4:44 PM  
Blogger SpanishGoth said...

What happened to the bonking dragon?

15/8/07 6:38 PM  
Blogger Cream said...

Bella, I had to keep up with the boys...

Cherrybabes, I couldn't have been able to lift a glass!

CR, with all those aching bones, I still enjoyed it. I just want to get better to beat my neighbour in Spain.

Goth, I think he lost his flaming passion...

15/8/07 9:18 PM  
Blogger Merisi said...

I love to play minigolf, no matter how many times I loose. My sun started beating me at age three. Just stood there, hit the ball, and voila'! He's still trying to teach me, though. Sweet guy, now a head taller than his mom.

16/8/07 8:37 PM  
Blogger Cream said...

Minigolf, Merisi! I love that! No wonder I was ok at putting.
They always get bigger than you, don't they?

17/8/07 10:17 AM  
Blogger Akelamalu said...

You're such a braveheart! This really made me laugh! :)

17/8/07 5:19 PM  
Blogger Guyana-Gyal said...

Now that you've saved your pride, you can always fake the flu or something, they'll never know.

18/8/07 2:20 AM  
Blogger Cream said...

Akela, Mel Gibson would've been proud of me!

Oh, no, Gigi, I will play again... if they let me.

18/8/07 9:06 AM  

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