Over the eight-odd years of this blog’s existence the sister and I have penned our missives from some weird and wonderful places and, in the early days in particular, it could be quite challenging from an internet connection standpoint.  I don’t think, however, that I’ve ever pored over the keyboard in such an enchanting environment before.  We’re in North Carolina in, well, in an airbnb that is rather akin to being in a large tree house that has been decorated inside and out by Fred Flintstone.

This is real get-away-from-it-all family time but, as is the way with the modern world, it’s easy to keep your finger on the pulse of whatever you wish.  So, this week, sprinkled in between celebrating a very big birthday for Patricia and sourcing craft breweries for Brian, I have kept half an eye on all things golf.

Some things don’t change.  Scottie Scheffler, for example, doesn’t seem to have set aside his winning ways, notching up his sixth win of the season at the Travelers Championship in Connecticut.  This is one of the PGA Tour’s eight Signature events, which were part of their response to the threat of LIV golf poaching their players.  That means the fields are limited, the prize money is enhanced and at least five of the eight have no cut –  criticisms the tour used to level at LIV Golf re their tournaments.  It’s not a response I particularly like as I’m instinctively opposed to anything that reduces playing opportunities for full members of a tour.  But, hey-ho, I suppose some enticements are necessary to reward top players for staying loyal to a tour that offers them a platform to earn multiple millions on an annual basis.  What a world we live in.

Meanwhile,  Nelly Korda, also a six-time winner on tour this year, was on her way home after missing the cut in the KPMG Women’s PGA Championship.  This was her third consecutive missed cut and her second in a major in the last month.  That just goes to highlight the frustrating difficulty of this sport.  Nelly has enjoyed a sublime five months when she has had the ball on a string, putting together a run of victories that would define a successful career on any player’s CV.  She is burnt out and tired but recognises the rollercoaster nature of the game as she prepares to reset and ready herself for the remainder of the season.

Nelly’s blip is a great opportunity for the other players to make hay.  It was Amy Yang who stepped forward and crafted as much as a seven-shot lead at one stage, before hanging on grimly to ease home in the end by three.  Her lifelong ambition of major success has come at the age of 34 and as she cradled the trophy the one name that stood out for her was that of Se Ri Pak, winner in 1998, and pied-piper and inspiration to generations of South Koreans.  It’s been a long journey since her first professional win on the Ladies’ European tour as a sixteen-year old amateur.

Normally a player’s cup runneth over when they hole out for a significant win but there was an unexpected bonus for Amy moments after she claimed the title.  She learned that she had vaulted up the rankings, snaring a spot on the Republic of Korea team for the Olympics in Paris in a few weeks.  Now an Olympian for the second time as well as a new major champ, she summed her day up perfectly:-

“Some days,” she said, “golf feels so easy and feels so fun; other days it feels like I want to retire very soon.”

No matter our level of skill I think we can all agree with her on that.

Not thinking of retirement any time soon is 52-year old Padraig Harrington who is hoovering up titles and oodles of cash on the PGA Champions Tour.  He won his third consecutive Dick’s Open in New York on Sunday, one week after being inducted into the World Golf Hall of Fame at Pinehurst.  This was his eighth title on the old boys’ tour and his second of the year.  His thirst for learning and his love of the game are infectious and his youtube series of “Paddy’s tips” is well worth a look.  They’ll often make you laugh, too – informative AND entertaining is a potent mix.

Padraig has never altered in his demeanour and approachability through all his time on tour.  Back in 2006, when I first went to broadcast in the US, (and before his major victories had started to arrive) I was watching Padraig practise on the range, standing well back so as not to disturb him.  It was my first tournament and everything was new – the crew I was working with, the equipment I’d been assigned –  and I’d been dispatched to gather up a couple of interviews for one of the numerous pre-game shows so beloved by the Americans.

As Padraig walked back to his bag he looked up, spotted me and immediately came over to the rope line.  I did have accreditation to actually be on the range but was too timid to trespass on that holy ground.

“Maureen, what are you doing here?”

“I hardly know,” I mumbled.  I explained what I needed and nothing would do him but he would halt his practice and wait patiently while I made sure the tape was on and then – off he went.  As usual, he delivered insights and comment that were terrific, making me look like I knew what I was doing.  What a confidence boost he gave to a rookie out in America.

Kindness itself.  I’ve never forgotten it.

Finally, in a remarkable first, Ireland is hosting two of the world’s premier amateur golf events in consecutive weeks.  The Amateur Championship has concluded at the wonderful Ballyliffin in Co Donegal with lefty Jacob Skov Olesen (picture at the top of the piece) becoming the first Danish winner of the title.  The Women’s Amateur, which has been taking place this past week at Portmarnock, is due to finish tomorrow.

What a feast for Irish golf fans – and how wonderful to see history in the making.

 

 

A friend expressed surprise that Maureen and I were still blogging (talking?), even though we’ve been on holiday in North Carolina for a couple of weeks but we’re a dedicated duo and America is pretty good at Wi-Fi.

It seems to be bloody useless at recycling – or we were hopeless at tracking down the requisite bins – and as plastic-free July looms in the UK, perhaps we should be switching from upping our recycling efforts to ensuring that we stop using Himalayan-sized mountains of plastic packaging in the first place.  Goodness gracious me, I can hear the long-suffering loyal reader sigh, she’s off again, here comes another rant.  Well, no, not really but I have found the whole thing unutterably depressing.

An American pal who would not dream of NOT recycling was sure that “an earthy crunchy town like Asheville” must offer recycling and suggested Googling it.  Trouble is, Asheville is nearly an hour’s drive from where we’re staying and our rustic digs didn’t have a single word on separating plastic, glass, aluminium, paper and cardboard.  Apparently, in some rural areas recycling bins can be found at fire stations but even I am not going to be driving around with the car filled with rubbish looking for the proper bin.  This would-be eco-warrior has her limits.  Perhaps that’s part of the problem.

 

Brian, who is a recycling cynic (with good reason I’m beginning to fear), is, however, fond of a road trip and likes driving, especially when he can set the satnav to go off grid and avoid interstates, tolls and the like.  The lanes he really loves are meandering rural ones taking you through parts of the state that not many North Carolinians will have travelled. We crossed the entire state, from near Swansboro in the south east to near Asheville in the west, not too far from Tennessee and the Appalachians.  (Think I also mentioned the Blue Ridge Mountains but looking more closely it’s more like the Great Smoky Mountains and Bald Mountains.)  The journey took a tad longer than nine hours, with one longish stop (for homemade breakfast pancakes at The Farmhouse Cafe and Bakery in Newton Grove) and two shorter ones.

Just like in the UK going north/south (or vice versa) is more straightforward than going east/west and having been instructed to avoid Charlotte, our gizmo took us on an early higgledy-piggledy adventure through little country lanes, made more mysterious because of the early morning fog.  We just hoped we wouldn’t meet any of the monster trucks that are a speciality over here or super-sized farm machinery looming out of the gloom.  Not every driver gave a toss about headlights so our driver had to be wide awake and fully alert from the off.  Fortunately, he’d had his breakfast and coffee early.

In times past, you used to study the map before your journey but now you tap in the instructions and follow the machine until it tells you to stop.  Brian has it all linked up to his hearing aids so he doesn’t need any helpful advice from his passengers; in fact I’m not sure he hears any of the advice coming his way from Mo (in the back because it’s more comfortable for her ailing neck and shoulder) and me (in the front trying not to interfere – insert whatever emoji seems appropriate).  Specs were needed to keep track of where we were because a lot of the places were in tiny print – if in print at all.

There seem to be more churches than there are places in this neck of the woods, mostly some variety of Baptist but there was Maysville Methodist Church, White Oak Missionary Baptist, Maple Grove Baptist, Lamie’s Chapel Christian Church, Rivermont Holiness Club, Deep Run Church of God, Zion Methodist Mount Olive, Eureka Christian Church, Pentecostal Free Will, to mention but a few and on and on.  Plus a sign or two saying “America Needs To Repent”.  Well, there was no shortage of places to stop by and confess all.  The first – and only – Catholic Church we spotted was in Asheville and it was Korean Catholic.  Think there was a Korean Methodist just up the road.  Bible Belt anybody?

On Monday the 24th of June, I hit 70 and celebrated by opening all the birthday cards I’d brought with me and having a cup of Irish breakfast tea on the verandah, wearing the birthday jim-jams given to me by a kind friend who wasn’t enamoured of my rudimentary running repairs on my previous pair – they wouldn’t have been appearing in any photos shoots.  Thanks to everybody for their kind wishes and thanks to the Naughties for the big party we Noughts had at WHGC on Friday 7th June, the day before I flew to Dublin for the start of this trip.  It was ace.  Apologies but I don’t seem to have any decent pictures of the occasion – there must be some somewhere.

As well as churches there are oodles of craft breweries here and we rooted out a few.  Our driver had to be very abstemious but he could well be back – with a chauffeuse.  Slainte.

 

And, finally, this is where all the rubbish will be going.  Note the chain but do you really think it would worry any self-respecting scavenging bear or crittur?