Remembering How to Play Golf Sober Redux

I have been reluctant to tell ya’ll this story for reasons which should soon become apparent but the primary reason was for fear of failing the ‘Ettes. Now with only nine days and wake-up until I have reached my goal, the story can finally be told.

My doctor-friend reminds me as often as he pleases that I am a “highly functioning alcoholic” (his words). He also has begged me to have pity on my liver and refuse the demon’s rum for one solid month per year. Being highly functioning I normally choose the month of February for my torture. I was saddened to no end, traumatized even to discover that this year (2020?) Feb is significantly longer than it was the previous three.

Long story endless, there are two activities (we debated this already and golf is an activity not a sport) that should never be practiced sober. The other is sailing.

Every February I must re-learn how to play golf sober and my Candies, poor dears, are now worried for my health. I have assured them the abomination that is my golf game sans brewskis will soon come to a screeching halt and there is rejoicing throughout the kingdom. It is also rumored that local breweries are already ramping up production in anticipation of their ‘mysterious’ annual surge in March sales.

Imagine the horror to both my person and the females of the species if I had been diagnosed with a sex addiction!?!

I am once again reminded of the words of my idol and Northern Irish footballer George Best, “In 1969 I gave up women and alcohol – it was the worst 20 minutes of my life.” By the way, I have never seen even one second of Sir(?) Best playing his sport. He is my idol for having shagged Miss World. That otherworldly accomplishment may or may not be somehow related to his profession, but that is none of my business either.

Semper Fi