It was the fifth day, we were all very tired. Everyone sat in a restaurant, having eaten their starters, for about an hour and a half, until someone realised that we had completely forgotten to order our main courses. This was the first occasion that more than half of the party had to wear their reading glasses when consulting the menu. 

It was Saturday night and about 2.00am and Stefan had to tell us to keep the noise down in the piano bar. He insisted that we play "just one more song" and then call it a night. We chose "Hey Jude" whereupon he then proceeded to behave very badly and make much more noise than anyone during the "La la la, Judy Judy Judy"  bits at the end.

Cock couldn't wait for the last day, he was desperate to show a new tour member the view from the 6th green at Omaha Beach. 

Seconds before the moment arrived, a thick sea mist rolled in and you couldn't see your hand in front of your face.

The less said about this the better. Suffice to say that a photograph of someone called Edward became the booby prize. It now hangs in the bar of L'Univers in St Malo.

Hall of Shame entrant was The Baron

Quite an impromptu tour this one. We rang the changes and there were only four going with a week to go and then four more brand new members signed on. One of these was Tippy who, not only won, but has been on every trip since.

Unfortunately, the other three were unable to play golf. 

Still, they weighed in with their kitty money and that's all that really counts.

Well we met these two elderly ladies in the restaurant and had a few laughs. Turned out that they lived above a launderette. Lots of harmless fun ensued which mainly involved us drinking all their wine and smoking all their fags. Eventually they got fed up and kicked us out. 

Hall of Shame entrant was Fairground

A long and highly involved saga that started months before the tour. It was a wind up where nearly everyone involved thought that they were "in" on the joke but then it turned out that they were the butt of it. Final result was a free one iron that never quite appeared. If you want the whole story, send me an email.

Cash Till was asleep in the buggy on the first tee.

Hall of Shame entrant was Cock

Imagine that you are in a small deserted village the middle of nowhere, in an tiny Italian restaurant that has no one else in it. The evening looks like its going to be a bit on the dull side. Then in walk thirty drunk French women out on a hen party. Lots of singing and good fun followed. The "piece de resistance" was when the bride to be threw up on the pavement. Unforgettable.

Hall of Shame entrant was Salisbury

Buck and Clarkie invented a new game on the pocketless billiard table. Imaginary rules were invented as we went and there was much pretended discussion about the tactics. Scoring was arbitary. TC was well in the net. 

Starting this year we decided to have a competition known as "Shot of the Day". 

It would be worth just a few Francs and we anticipated it to be a worthy discussion topic in the bar after the game with each match putting forward a nomination and then arguing its relative merits against the other choices.

Cash Till shanked his second at the short third at Omaha beach. The ball shot out of bounds, hit a bread van coming down the road and bounced back into play. 

He got down in 2 for his par.                         (see disclaimer notice below)

We knew we could never top that so we abandoned shot of the day although it is still technically open as a category in the unlikely event of anything better than that happening.            

(See Tour Stats)

Hall of Shame entrant was Short Stuff

Our very first tour. Nobody knew then what an institution this would turn out to be.

Cock was so drunk that he thought he must be imaging the rabbit that was sat opposite him in the restaurant.

We took two taxis back to the hotel and had a bet on who would get back first. We bribed our driver to go the wrong way around a huge traffic island in the centre of Caen. Oh the impetuousness of youth!

Hall of Shame entrant was Cash Till