This area (including a ground used by Essex County Cricket Club and a large municipal sports ground and swimming pool) are named after the Garon family of Southend who were major retailers in the town for several generations: Norman Garon donated the land to the town in 1885. The Garons opened a chain of shops, cinemas and banqueting suites at a time when rail travel to the town had started to bring in tourists from London. One member of the family, Percy Garon, was decorated for his efforts in World War 1 and awarded the George Medal during World War 2 for fighting fires across Essex. He became chairman of Southend Lifeboat Service and is remembered today by one of the services main boats being named after him.
I don’t play golf, but my husband does, plus many of his mates across the years have enjoyed a round (and presumably still do.) That means we came here in 1994 when the course opened, and have returned ever since. This location is included here as the event described in my piece was possibly one of the most significant personal revelations I’d had in my twenties.
It’s amazing where this stuff hits you, on reflection.
Going Left
On the ninth tee: rain,
driving wind, poor form
inconspicuous
ultimate indignity:
stung in October
angry wasp, fairway
disturbance contrives;
only excitement
on an Estuary birthday.
This relationship,
going left, out of bounds
eventually lost to
irreconcilable drives;
emotional irons
sand stuck shots:
cliché appropriate
sporting metaphor
face it: you failed.
On the fairway: all
once forgotten, back
nine times equality
equals cards, unmarked
pristine grass, then
it all makes sense:
problem, not yours
ignorance mine:
finish this game.
Proper Bard 