I played with my mate Roger; he’s a brilliant golfing partner – he’s always up for a game and, above all, he’s always up for a good walk, which suits me down to the ground.
Roger and I are the same age. Physically, there’s about as much difference between us as there is between a bottle of Suze and a bottle of Orangina – but then again, there’s something for everyone at cocktail hour.

There’s also another difference between us: even though we’re both fairly average players – if we go by the golfing association’s handicap tables – I’m supposed to play about ten strokes fewer than him.

But often, when we’ve finished the round and Roger asks me with a smile and in a friendly manner, ‘So, what’s your score?’, we realise we’ve got roughly the same one – and sometimes his is even a bit better.

It has to be said that Roger, even though he really plays just for fun and is always laid-back, still pays very close attention to his scorecard.
Roger’s a pretty straight-laced chap. He likes things to be organised. He likes his scorecard to be fairly neat. And to achieve that, he uses several ‘tweaking’ techniques that you’re well aware of.

During our round two days ago on the first hole, a par 4, Roger reached the green in three, just like me. He made a decent first putt that came to rest about 20 to 30 cm from the hole. As he walked towards his ball, Roger – still smiling – asked: “Well, aren’t you going to give it to me?”
There were three of us playing, including his partner, a charming new golfer who plays very well. And we replied in unison, “Of course, Roger, we’ll give it to you.” “If it makes you happy,” I added with a smile.

Roger, delighted: “Right then, I’ll just give it a quick putt anyway.” He tapped his ball in, admittedly without concentrating too much. “Ah well, thank goodness you gave it to me.”

As for me on that first hole, I took three putts.

It has to be said that the greens weren’t easy at Sea Pine; they were quite slow, so the ball lost speed very quickly and veered off course.

So on the second hole, I let him go first as he’d scored better than me, and the round continued in good spirits.
After a few holes, much the same situation repeated itself: his ball came to rest between 30 and 40 cm from the hole. This time, I beat him to it: “It’s yours if you want it, Roger. ”
“Oh, right, I’ll take it then – it’ll look good on my scorecard. Right, I’ll just pop this one in quickly.”
Well, he missed again – that really is bad luck.

Having done my charitable deed for the day, I didn’t offer to give him the ball for the next hole. But he asked his partner, who also kindly gave it to him.

This scenario repeated itself at least five or six times during the round. On one or two other occasions he asked again, ‘Aren’t you going to give it to me?’, including once when he was practically a putter’s length away. It’s fair to say that Roger’s putter is shorter than mine.

Most of the time I don’t spontaneously give away putts, and I never accept one from anyone else. I’ve already explained in another column just how counterproductive I find this. It’s the surest way, when you’re in a competition, to end up with a rubbish score and then be surprised by it.

Furthermore, on my scorecard – which is, of course, far more crumpled than Roger’s – it’s not uncommon to find penalties, as on this ninth hole, or after a very good tee shot on this island par-4, where I hit two balls into the water: one too long, landing at the back of the green, and the next, of course, too short.

Inevitably, with two penalties on a par-4, you end up with an 8 or a 9 on the scorecard pretty quickly. It’s not exactly pretty, but that’s golf, isn’t it? Even Tiger Woods once carded a 10 on the 12th hole at Augusta, a par-3.

There were also two holes where Roger’s tee shot went completely astray. When I say completely astray, I don’t just mean off the fairway – I mean it went at a right angle into the pond to the left of the tee or deep into the woods on the right; a proper miss – it happens.
On both occasions, Roger gave a slight nod to the cadet, who understood and was already coming round with another ball. So he played a second ball off the tee. In a friendly match, it’s all in good fun after all. That’s what’s known as a floating mulligan.

Well, there were perhaps two or three occasions when a ball ended up in a tricky spot on the course – a bit too close to a root, behind a large tuft of grass missed by the mower, or in a patch where there was a bit too little grass, with the ball resting directly on the bare ground.
Well, we’re here to have a friendly game; we’re not here to get annoyed, hurt our wrists with a bad shot or damage our clubs. So there’s no harm in nudging the ball a few centimetres to get a better lie, is there?

Once the round’s over, it’s time to sit down and have a drink in good company. And that’s when Roger says: “My scorecard’s not too bad today. I shot 105. Considering I wasn’t on top form, that’s not too bad. What about you?”

Having played today with a completely lacklustre game and several three-putts, I reply: “I shot 104.”
“Ah well, you see, we played the same.”

Indeed, Roger, indeed, we played the same.

And what about you – do you have any extra ‘smoothing’ techniques that might interest my mate Roger for his scorecard?

Well, as you’ve gathered, this amuses me more than it irritates me. What interests me is my score – my current level, which isn’t great.

I’m going to play again this week with Roger, who’s the loveliest lad I know round here and a brilliant playing partner. We’ll have a brilliant game together.
And we’ll finish off with a drink and maybe have a bit of a chat about our scores.