In Tydd St Giles, on this autumn day,
We set out on our golfing play,
Though skies were gray and weather foul,
We ventured forth with hearty howl.

Last Friday’s plan was put to rest,
As storms threatened our golfing quest,
Today we took a different road,
To Tydd’s greens, where stories unfold.

With Google Maps as our trusted guide,
We traversed roads where troubles hide,
Down farmer’s paths, through muddy lanes,
We braved the elements, wind and rains.

Reception’s maze, a puzzling tale,
In search of where the Spike Bar hails,
Double doors or singles, we wondered,
Lost in instructions, our minds asunder.

But fear not, for sustenance we found,
A bacon burger, coffee abound,
A morning tee-off, ‘neath the rain,
Les’s plea, “Keep scorecards dry,” our bane.

Soaked through the first hour and more,
Our spirits dampened, but not our core,
Then, the sun broke through the clouds,
As Tydd’s golf course sang aloud.

Dave, from one-forty yards away,
Chipped in for a birdie in splendid display,
Five points earned, a remarkable feat,
A tale to tell, our hearts did beat.

And Sean, with prowess, on the back nine,
Five pars, a score quite divine,
22 points on the return,
A score of which I can only yearn.

On the 18th, in a fateful bind,
Geoff, in the nick of time, Sean’s ball did find,
Two minutes and fifty-nine seconds past,
Two points for Sean, a moment to last.

In the bar, Roy’s miles did amass,
“7.5 miles,” his phone did compass,
Brian quipped, “You missed the fairway wide,”
Roy replied, “Their lost balls, I did find.”

Les and David, Roy they did misplace,
Lost between greens, in that vast space,
Signposts vague, our group’s plight unseen,
Searching for the 14th tee, a tricky scene.

But the day concluded with great delight,
Sausages and mash, a culinary flight,
Raspberry and Vanilla Roulade crowned,
A feast of flavours, our taste buds astound.

Nearest the Pin, David West achieved,
His golfing skill, we all believed,
Now, for the grand finale we await,
Results, scores, secrets of our fate.

The Follies Champion Golfer’s reign,
Will remain unknown, a golfing campaign,
Till the Supper on November’s eve,
We’ll celebrate, and stories weave.

_{With a little help from ChatGPT}