It is my wont if I have a late morning tee off at The Castle to have a stroll round St Andrews. I have got into the habit of going to a wee cafe on North Street called Taste. They serve excellent coffee and the most sublime chocolate brownies. It is usually full of students, has a few comfy chairs, a sofa and free papers. What a place to pass an hour away and to people watch.
Anyway I had just got my coffee and brownie, and my attention for some reason was drawn to this rather elegant older American couple. I don’t know why. They seemed to be looking for someone. Anyway at that point this young man walks in and of course you know who it is. It’s Oliver Horovitz! I mean who else could it have been. I mean it wouldn’t be any other student or travelling tourist or wayfarer or young golfer up for The Boyd Quaich! No it was my man Oliver. It had to be. The infamous Harvard graduate caddie. The writer, the film maker, ‘the wonderful Oliver Horovitz’ (Waterstone’s).
Let’s face it, no one else was going to walk in at that point. I mean Stan was never going to walk in. Not in a million years would Stan have walked in. And I am beginning to think there is something very uncanny going on around here.
I should have got up and said ‘Hi Oliver have you seen Stan?’ and just waited to see his expression. I mean it would have been immense. And then I could have introduced myself and told him about my blog, and having read and enjoyed his book. I mean that would have been choice. Albeit he may not have got my wayward, suspect and abandoned sense of humour.
Anyway I went up for my first round in a few days and had a delightful few hours with four fun Canadians. Turns out the chap I caddied for, Andrew, had also studied economics here . Uncannily, as me, he also had forays into the golf and ski tourism market! He had finally got big in funeral care for a listed Canadian company and had obviously done very well. I told him I had eventually got into cut flowers. And it just shows that a BSc from St Andrews in Economics can lead to a pretty grave end.
As the evening drew in there was a lovely sea breeze off the glistening sea. The air was fresh and pure and dolphins were dancing out in St Andrews Bay.