About
Four degrees. Sideways rain. Dark by half four.
The course is shut. Or it's open, and you'd be mad to go.
So the clubs sit in the hall. Your stroke stiffens. Your eye line drifts. Your feel for pace goes quiet.
Then spring comes, and you three-putt the first green and wonder where your game went.
It went nowhere. You just stopped practising.
Winter is where strokes are lost.
Around four in every ten shots you hit are putts. Not one of them needs sunshine. They need a straight line, a square face and your eyes over the ball.
That's why The Putting Room exists. A mirror. A pair of sticks. The carpet you already have. Ten minutes while the kettle boils.
No tee time. No green fee. No weather.
The course will open again. Be better when it does.