Castlegregory Golf Club

05.07.2009.

Castlegregory is a small village on the northern shore of the Dingle peninsula.   A place which, for millennia, owed its survival to its remote location in the general scheme of things. No great plunder here for the Vikings, although a few must have slipped through. Lean pickings also for the Normans who seem to have missed the Republic of Kerry altogether. ‘Castle’ survived for generations on the intransigence and the ‘webbed foot’ mentality of the indigenous population. It still does.

I recently had the privilege of visiting the village as a guest of the Lady Captain, on the occasion of her annual prize. A very pleasant day, a wonderful night, a privilege to share with the disparate attendees. The details of the day are for another epistle.

My abiding memory was of the apparent and obviously genuine un-inhibitionness un-inhibititudeness or whatever word you can invent, if there is such a noun, of the locals.    Welcomed with a typical patronising touch of Kerry bonhomie, this rapidly evaporated when they realised that Corkonianism is not as ingrained as either county believes.     As always those clever and beautiful people put us at our ease, perhaps off our guard, who knows. One way or another a great day got off to a great start at the Castlegregory clubhouse.    We all knew the lady captain, so her effusive welcome was expected.     Her Vice, her secretary, her predecessor, the lady president and the whole shooting match of female members who welcomed us, defied description. Their attributes encompassed all those normally expected in Pigalle, Trinity College and the Tralee Dome.  Wonderful women all. They welcomed us effusively and without reservation, and still, in some unfathomable way, we felt that it was we who owed them a debt of gratitude, as indeed the evening proved.

Males to Tomasins, females to Crutches:  Fed and watered:  Back to Crutches.  

One who has lived a long time and who has experienced all kinds of rannygazoo can only describe what ensued as magical.    The welcome, the lead in by the secretary, the homily of the Lady Captain, the acceptance of her vice (who happened to win) the obvious bond between the members, the like bond between the members and their guests, the warm feeling that pervaded the proceedings and the never to be forgotten down to earth attitude that obviously pervades this lovely club, made this writer, for one, envious.

Long may your beautiful course survive. 

Long may your approach to golf survive.

Long may your “joy de vivre” survive.

Thank you.

A guest.