I’m enduring a very poor run of form at the moment. My handicap is on an inexorable path upwards and I just can’t seem to get the ball round in a sensible number. Although many of my issues are mental, they stem from something technical. The problem is – I’m not sure what that technical something is.

I’m far too stubborn to take a lesson so I have to try and work out the problem for myself. It’s proving to be rather tricky. Since my bad golf started some weeks ago, I’ve lost count of the number of “Eureka” moments I’ve had. It’s incredible how sure I can be that I’ve solved my issues then how quickly I can be proved wrong, no matter how many times it happens.

For me, this is how things pan out:

I’m hitting the ball poorly so I begin to think too hard about what I’m doing. I’ll start concentrating on a swing thought rather than simply moving the ball towards the target and I begin hitting it even worse. Then I really start experimenting –

“Maybe my grip’s too weak.” I think. So I strengthen my grip and the next shot’s a beauty.

“Yes, that’s it, that was the problem.” I’m temporarily elated but three shots later a snap-slice out of bounds sends me back to the drawing board. The next solution won’t be long in coming though…

“Wait a minute. My shoulders are open.” So I close my shoulders and the next shot’s a beauty.

“Yes, that’s it, that was the problem.” I’m temporarily elated but three shots later a pull-hook into the trees sends me back to the drawing board.

This process repeats ad infinitum.

Before yesterday’s mid-week Medal I was convinced (again) I had the answer – I wasn’t staying behind the ball properly. Things were going pretty well until the eighth when I hit one poor shot that seemed to disprove my cure. I was so disappointed that I made back-to-back double bogeys in protest and my round was ruined.

I made a sad mental trudge back to my drawing board and spent the rest of the game experimenting with little success. That was until the 18th tee when I suddenly realised I’d been swaying rather than turning through the ball. I played the final hole beautifully and made a birdie.

I’m now, once again, convinced I have the solution and next time I venture onto the course I’ll shoot the lights out. It really is a ridiculous game.