It was rather a bumper of a week. Not in terms of the horse running as it’s still the flat season of course.
But rather a hectic one if that makes it clearer.
I started off at the Seniors Open Qualifying with the most lovely American gentleman Earl Morley. I thought it was a wind up when I saw his name in the book ‘Early Morly’ as we had a first-off tee time. However he was very much real. Not ‘Early’ though but Earl. And not the regal type. Just plain, or in this case definitely not so plain, Earl Morley. And the most delightful chap at that.
Although he marginally missed qualifying, he showed me how to play again and gave the most beautiful display of golf I’ve ever had the pleasure to watch. He was delightful, composed, friendly and funny. What a joy to caddie for him.
I had a few sessions on the driving range which gave me reason to believe that there is some life in the old trout yet. I am genuinely excited with my golf again and looking forward to my 2 rounds on the Old Course this forthcoming weekend in the St Andrews Club 175th anniversary competition.
A very good week on the gee gees has put my bet bank into fine fettle and it’s all trundling along quite nicely to be honest. Not that the chat from an Old Course caddie in Ladbrokes was overly inspiring. ‘What are you betting?’ I asked, ‘I’m just in’ he said rather grumpily. I tried to converse more with him but he said ‘I don’t take questions’, to which I added ‘it’s not the bloody Rose Garden’ and he looked rather unhappy at this. I thought it wise not to extend the discourse any further.
Apart from all that I planted a white fuschia, had lobster and chips at the harbour in Crail, met up with old uni buddy, Janice, in Taste, got soaked, took bike to Jim’ll fix it, finished my Open article, made up with old pal and fellow florist John, had the most bizarre morning and trip to the Victoria hospital in Kirkcaldy which I will recount in my forthcoming memoirs, met a very fine man who camps out in the loo at the 12th hole at the Fairmont, had negative thoughts about a Sunday Times journalist, considered that life is very definitely not about money (although reflected that it’s rather nice to have), checked out NY stand up venues, successfully laid Chris Froome (betting terminology), went to my favorite womens clothes shops (bit of a long story underlying my interest in ladies clothing. There are two excellent womens clothes shops in Bruntsfield and I’m rather partial to both of them. Chi being an ex-girlfriend and business accomplice and Gill at Andiamo, a friend. Not to forget the lovely Linda who I didn’t manage to woo as I got chucked oot the Canny Mans on our first date), saw ever smiling Donald the banker, Angus the butcher, Dave the wineman and considered that life is a very fine thing.
Albeit would be a much finer thing if Cheeky Rascal had come in at 14s in the 815 at Salisbury.