We all have hidden talents. I have many. And my skill at mini-golf came as a complete shock to my husband, when I finally revealed it after years of marriage. Ha ha, I know you were all hoping for something naughtier, but trust me, as someone with little concentration, less patience and absolutely no spatial relations what so ever, the fact that I am pretty good on a crazy golf course is a shocker. But I spent my adolescence in the mid-west where legal entertainment for teenagers is scarce. Putt putt, as we called it, was one of the few options. I suppose it proves that if you do something often enough you get good at it. I did and so I am. Mini golf has become a recent craze in London, but all courses are short term pop ups only (the exception being the soon-to-open course next to the Gherkin, which will be permanent.) And indoors. Always indoors. With bars. Certainly a different atmosphere to what I grew up with. I had to have a go.

So I convinced Alice, my full time working in the City friend, to spend a beautiful, sunny London Friday afternoon in the underground gloom of the Truman Brewery playing at the Junkyard Golf Club. Properly decadent really. And we had the place practically to ourselves, which made it feel even creepier and skive-ier. But the emptiness allowed us to wander through all three courses and admire the “junk” put together not just to create obstacles but make you laugh. And we laughed a lot. Along with cast off appliances and quantities of neon paint was a speed boat carrying mannequins that must have spent time in a porn shop, given their attributes…we particularly liked the one wearing a boa made of fake dollar bills. Classy.

A grotesque clown lounged in a jacuzzi, a playhouse boasted a garden of maimed Barbie dolls and a large cow requested you not molest her. Certainly not the family friendly courses of my younger years; no worry that you will run into the local youth group here, thankfully. And all with a pounding soundtrack of classic Funk. A great way to be a little bit naughty.

The courses themselves offer plenty of challenge. Awkwardly positioned props, uncooperative tunnels and ramps, annoying use of gravity. And the final hole on the Helga course is impossible. Completely impossible. But really good fun. Naughty and fun. Perfect Friday afternoon.

http://www.junkyardgolfclub.co.uk til early August

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