St Georges Hill Golf Club Weybridge

Let me tell you about St. George’s Hill Golf Club in Weybridge. It’s not just a golf course—it’s a fortress of privilege where the grass is probably sprinkled with diamond dust. You’ve heard of exclusive clubs? This one makes the Vatican’s Swiss Guard look like a welcoming committee.

Where the 1% go to avoid the other 99%

St. George’s Hill sits inside a gated community so posh that even the postman needs a background check. We’re talking about a place where Paul McCartney, Cliff Richard, and actual royalty once called home. The club itself? It’s older than your grandma’s favorite armchair—founded in 1913 by a group of rich blokes who thought, “Let’s build a golf course, then hide behind a hedge.”

The course was designed by Harry Colt, the guy who basically invented classy golf in England. He laid out 18 holes over heathland that looks like someone spilled a giant green carpet across a pine forest. Pro tip: If you hit a ball into the woods here, just wave goodbye—it’s probably joining a secret squirrel society.

Wait, there’s a mansion?

Here’s the weird part: the clubhouse is a mock-Tudor mansion that looks like it wandered off from a Shakespeare play. Inside, you’ll find a fireplace big enough to roast a dragon and portraits of members who seem to be judging your golf swing and your life choices. The bar? It serves £10 gin and tonics in crystal glasses because plastic cups are, apparently, “for the unwashed.”

Rumor has it that the club’s dress code requires you to own at least one cashmere sweater and a pair of trousers that’ve never seen a washing machine under £100. Want to play? You’ll need a membership—which costs about as much as a small sedan—plus a letter of recommendation from someone who probably owns a helicopter. Good luck.

St Georges Hill | visit

The shocking truth about the sand traps

Fun fact: the bunkers here aren’t just full of sand—they’re full of history. During World War II, the club was used by the Canadian Army as a training base. So when you’re stuck in a bunker on the 5th hole, imagine a soldier yelling, “That’s not a grenade, mate, it’s a sodding golf ball!” The course also has a par-3 hole named “The Dell” that’s so tight, even a math genius can’t figure the angle. It’s like the club designers wanted to humble billionaires for fun.

Oh, and the 13th hole? It’s called “The Punch Bowl” because it collects golfers’ tears after they fail to land a par. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

A polarising filter was used in this image: A view from the forward

So, can you actually get in?

Unless you’re already besties with a member, forget it—the waiting list is longer than the Great Wall of China. But here’s the twist: the course is technically open to visitors if you book through a special tour operator. In other words, you can pay a fortune to pretend you’re a billionaire for a day. Just don’t wear anything with a logo bigger than your thumb, and please don’t ask if they’ve met Elton John. They definitely have, and they’re not telling you stories.

In summary, St. George’s Hill is a place where golf meets snobbery meets trees. It’s magnificent, maddening, and utterly absurd—like a James Bond villain’s backyard. Go for the views, stay for the feeling that a butler is judging your golf grip from behind a hedge. And whatever you do, don’t forget the cashmere.