I’ve had a busy time recently, whooshing back from Tenerife last week and then having a quick turn around before heading off to the sister’s to hustle down to London to watch Spurs versus Manchester United last Sunday.

I must confess to feeling a little conflicted as we made my maiden voyage to the spanking new Tottenham Hotspur stadium in N17.  Mum was a United fan, having supported them since the Munich air disaster on February 6th 1958.  She was in Coleraine in a nursing home having introduced me to the world on the first day of the month.  Way back then mums could have a couple of weeks in the nursing home – you weren’t turfed off home within hours of giving birth – and the wall-to-wall news was of the tragedy that took so many young lives.  My hubby is also a United fan and Patricia, of course, is Spurs through and through.

I dutifully bedecked myself in neutral colours and was warned by Patricia that I could absolutely NOT be an away fan in the home supporters’ section.  To my uninitiated eye the two sides were fairly similar with moments of brilliance and sheer stupidity in abundance.  It made for an exciting watch but not a restful afternoon as I found myself, eventually, shouting for the home team.  My husband was hundreds of miles away, so if United lost he could be miserable on his own.  I was going to be with Patricia, so thought I would be in for a happier time if Spurs won – and so it proved.  Nothing like a good ole dose of self-interest.

The next morning we dropped in on Judy Williams, widow of Michael, the long-time golf correspondent of The Daily Telegraph and had a delightful visit before making our way over to Thorpeness Golf Club in Suffolk, the domain of the redoubtable Chris Langford, one of the founder members of the Ladies’ European Tour (LET).

It’s a year since Lang organised a get-together to celebrate 45 years of the tour’s existence and it was lovely to meet up again with these wonderful, pioneering women who were brave enough to make the leap into the abyss of women’s professional sport all those years ago (top picture).  And boy, can some of these old pals of mine still play a mean game of golf!

Tuesday saw the inaugural playing of  TOFT  – The Old Founders’ Trophy – at lovely Thorpeness.  (If you believe the “F” really does stand for “Founders” you would be wrong,,,,,,,,,but this is a family blog!)  Rather bizarrely the first winner turned out to be the host professional who, I’m told, did the setting of the tees, the pins and more crucially, the handicapping.  So, with the organiser’s (ie Chris Langford’s) decision being final it is the name “Chris Langford” that will be etched into history!!

I was pleased to hear that the Founders had been guests at last year’s Irish Open but do admit to wishing the LET would take a leaf out of the LPGA’s modus operandi and celebrate their founders a little more openly and enthusiastically.  At the moment you’d almost need to employ a forensic detective to find the teeniest bit of information about the tour’s early steps.  I’d love to see a Founders tab on the home page with lists, photos, names and histories of these players.  Alas, some of them are no longer with us, so time definitely is of the essence.

With sketchy records and a lack of archive those who have knowledge of those early days are thinning out.  We cannot let that happen.  Today’s tour exists thanks to very special people who paved the way for the rest of us – and it behoves the tour to ensure that every single current player knows the names of the Founders and says a silent thank you every time they tee it up for the opportunities they now enjoy.

Last week the Ladies’ European Tour was in Riyadh for the lucrative $4.5 million PIF Saudi Ladies’ International, an eye-watering amount of money to those of us gathered at our reunion.  The feel-good story for me was that of  22-year old Annabell Fuller, an English player from Roehampton, who was playing in her second tournament in her second year on tour.  She had had a reasonable rookie campaign finishing 78th in the standings and winning a shade over 74,ooo euros but that didn’t make her eligible to play for the riches in Riyadh.

Managing to secure a sponsor’s invitation into the previous week’s event in Morocco was key as a top-ten finish there earned her a place on the tee sheet in Saudi.  She then had the week of her life, finishing third on her own and winning a smidgen less than 260,000 euros, a life changing amount of dosh.  Talk about grabbing an opportunity with both hands when it presents itself!  Utterly brilliant.

At one fell swoop Annabell has removed anxiety and uncertainty from her planning.  She will be in every regular tournament she wishes to play, will have a decent shot at making a few major starts and has no worries about footing her costs.  She’s already changed a few travel plans, upgrading from economy to something a little more comfortable and I’m sincerely hoping this performance is only a forerunner to many top-quality outings to follow.

Fingers crossed and a huge big heartfelt thanks again to the Founders who made it all possible.

Do you ever have times when you can’t believe how lucky you are?  It doesn’t mean you don’t have bad times or sad times but I often have moments of standing back, in amazement, wondering how on earth I got to be wherever it was, with whomever.

Earlier this week was one of those times.  Maureen and I had been to a rare  occasion this season, my tottering Totspurs winning at home – by a single goal, so not conceding, keeping a clean sheet and sending us supporters home happy.  We were shaken, stirred and exhausted but not disappointed:  three points and zooming up the table, away from the relegation strugglers.

Long may it last but who knows?  We’re away at Ipswich this Saturday and they really are in a relegation battle, so need to win at least as badly as we do – and they beat us at our place…”It’s not very relaxing, is it?”  Mo said, “This watching Spurs.”  Linda, who sits next to me, laughed and said, “We don’t come here to relax!”

This latest journey to Spurs was another first, not least because our ultimate destination was Thorpeness for a golfing reunion par excellence.  First off, we drove to Chelmsford, where we booked in to the City Centre Premier Inn (£15 extra for early check-in), then crossed the road to board the Spurs coach.  “I think it’ll take about 40 minutes,” I said to Mo.  Not quite right.  Two hours later we pulled in to the coach park about ten minutes’ walk from the ground.  Never underestimate the delaying power of London traffic.

En route to Suffolk, we took a short detour to have a coffee and chat with Judy Williams, whose late husband Michael was the golf correspondent of The Daily Telegraph for many years.   There’s not much Judy doesn’t know about golf – or Ipswich Town FC; the family are lifelong supporters, so we’re not on the same side this weekend.  I’d rooted out some photos of long-ago AGW (Association of Golf Writers) get togethers at Penina in Portugal, with Henry Cotton and his formidable wife Toots presiding.  The snaps are mostly dark and grainy but they’re lovely reminders of the laughs we had.

We made it to the A12 without alarms and Mo navigated us expertly to Thorpeness on the Suffolk coast, just north of Aldeburgh, where we were reunited with some of the founders and early members of the LET, the second such reunion arranged by the redoubtable Chris Langford, director of golf at Thorpeness and organiser supreme.  There were lots of tall tales told, an inordinate amount of laughter and some very good golf swings on show.  Maureen and I cheered the golfers off on a bright, chilly morning, then wrapped up warm and trekked in to Aldeburgh for coffee and cake, cheeks stinging from the North Sea breezes.

 

I’ll have to bring my clubs next time because it’s a shame to come all this way and not play a course described by Peter Alliss as “a hidden gem in the Suffolk countryside”.  This year I hadn’t time for golf because I was on the hunt for blue mascara.  The reason was that Jane Chapman, now Denman, was on the guest list and the first time we met, many years ago (more than fifty!!), at an Aer Lingus event in Killarney, she was wearing blue mascara. I, a few months older but light years behind in every other respect, thought it the height of sophistication.  Sadly, it never worked on my darker lashes; perhaps it’s true that blondes have more fun….

Anyway, as it turned out there was a blue mascara in the pharmacy in Aldeburgh but it was too dark, more of a navy and it wasn’t until I got back to Lichfield that I found something that would do the job.  Hope it’ll keep until next year!

Talking of colour, the Ireland rugby team will be wearing white shirts not green against Wales in Cardiff this weekend.  It’s to make it easier for fans who are colour blind – officially known as CVD (colour vision deficiency ) – to tell the difference between the two sides.  People with the condition find red and green particularly difficult to tell apart, hence the change.  This may be tempting fate but fingers crossed that looking at the players scoring the tries will help distinguish the Irish from the Welsh…

I suppose that’s the sort of cockiness that leads to defeat but I’m hoping that the players will be too good, too professional and too organised to think that they just have to turn up to win.  Wales may not be at their best at the moment but favourites, however overwhelming, don’t always win.  Isn’t that why we love sport?