And suddenly, just like that, it’s crept up on us.  Next week is Masters week and part of my brain is saying, “At last,” while another part is countering with, “What, already?”

I can almost smell the flowering dogwood and the azaleas from here.  I can see in my mind’s eye the wonderful synchronicity of the grounds’ crew with their carefully orchestrated cutting and mowing patterns;  I can hear the cheerful and heartfelt greetings from the volunteers as they proudly welcome visitors from all over the world to “their” little piece of heaven.  The bird song is tuneful, (but the powers-that-be refuse to confirm whether the too-regular chirruping we hear on our televisions is the real deal or artificially produced) and the rolling green fairways are more perfect than any playing surfaces have a right to be.

It’s all so familiar but refreshingly so and, despite the fact that I’m not there in person this year, I find my spirits soaring at the delicious prospect of some wonderful viewing ahead of us all.  I am hoping, however, to work up to an uncomfortable Sunday – full of angst, shouting at the TV, hand-wringing and pacing about – because that will mean one of my favourites is in with a chance of expanding his wardrobe with a certain green jacket.

There are a number of players who would induce this kind of behaviour in me and in no particular order my main favourites are:  Tommy Fleetwood, Tyrrell Hatton, Bob MacIntyre, Justin Rose, Ludvig Aberg, the Hojgaard twins Nicolai and Rasmus, Shane Lowry ……and, of course, Rory McIlroy.

Ah, Rory.

It’s absolute nonsense, of course, but it’s hard not to think there is more on the line for Rory than any of the others.  Ahead of him is the prospect of becoming only the sixth player in history to complete the Career Grand Slam of winning all four majors at least once.  And wouldn’t it be great if we could all finally draw a veil over the memory of his spectacular implosion in 2011 when he handed the title to his rivals after taking a four-shot lead into the final round?  Each passing year seems to make the erasure of that particular memory more difficult.  The etch-a-sketch function of my memory, so reliable in other areas of my life, stubbornly refuses to work in respect of Rory and The Masters.

Word has filtered through that the Irishman has already made his annual scouting mission to Augusta National Golf Club ahead of the tournament.  Hurricane Helene, responsible for so much devastation and hardship to the local community, did not spare the golf course and there are fewer trees now than before.  Visually the 16th hole is slightly different, though I doubt if we’ll pick that up from our TV screens and, seemingly, four greens have been altered to some degree – the 1st, 8th, 15th and 16th.  No matter how familiar lines and slopes may be to loads of the players, it seems like there’s always something new to learn.

The day after this blog is posted we do have a chance of our own sneak preview of the golf course with the broadcast of the final round of this year’s Augusta National Women’s Amateur.  Started in 2019, this is the sixth playing of the tournament – Covid claimed the 2020 edition – and already derring-do deeds seem to be required to lift the title.  The first winner was Jennifer Kupcho who played her final six holes in five under par to hold off the effervescent Maria Fassi of  Mexico.  The skills, sportsmanship and joy with which these two battled for that inaugural title was more than the ANGC could have wished – it made future iterations a must-watch for golf fans.

Last year there were more fireworks when England’s Lottie Woad found herself two shots behind the talented American Bailey Shoemaker, who shot a record-breaking 66, with four holes to play.  Cool as a cucumber, Lottie birdied three of her last four holes – in fact, she single-putted four of her last five greens – to pip Bailey by a shot and become the first European winner of the title.

Now more exciting opportunities are opening up for the 21-year old Florida State University student.  This year a universities ranking has been formed to provide a pathway directly on to the LPGA tour.  Acquisition of twenty points over a specific time period will provide a similar route to female athletes to the one Ludvig Aberg took to the PGA Tour a couple of years ago.  It means being able to gain status on the LPGA tour, with the added bonus of avoiding Q-school.

Lottie’s past record has helped her build up that points score admirably.  Consider these achievements:  winning the ANWA title;  reaching No 1 in the world amateur ranking and winning the McCormack medal;  finishing tied 10th and tied 23rd in a couple of the 2024 majors;  playing in the Curtis Cup and the Palmer Cup.  Amongst other results that little lot has bagged her sixteen of the required twenty points and she has loads of opportunities to annexe the four extra ones that are needed.  That would then put her in the lovely position of a fast track to the LPGA but able to defer membership until she has graduated from uni in 2026.

Becoming the first player to defend her ANWA title would be a great start and I shall watch with interest, as I will the men the following week.

As we all know, Augusta National can make…….or break dreams.

I’m sitting here at the keyboard, forcing myself to start the blog so that I can have a good night’s sleep and be in with a chance of looking my best (at 70, nearer 71, with all those lines, who am I kidding!) at the great nephew’s wedding on Saturday.  Fortunately, as we all know, it’s the bride who matters, so the pressure is off.  And the outfit is sorted (mine as well as hers) – just have to remember to collect the aged Prada sandals from the ace shoe repair man in Lichfield.

How I love those Prada sandals!  They cost three figures in a sale in a big London department store – I’ve forgotten which one, I’d just wandered in to put in some time before meeting a friend – at least a quarter of a century ago.  That was serious money but they proved worth every penny (I was going to say cent but in the current circumstances, certainly not).

That wee bag, shoes inside, went everywhere with me, tucked neatly in a corner of the luggage and whenever I wore them, wherever it was, whatever else I had on, I knew I was the business and could hold my head up high in any company.  What more could you ask?

I’d probably write quicker – and more coherently – if I weren’t/wasn’t (who cares about grammar these days) trying to pay attention to a Zoom seminar  (had to upgrade to business for a couple of hours; don’t worry, I’ve already cancelled my free trial) and Spurs away at Chelsea.  There has been screeching and swearing and stomping about; I’d have had at least three red cards, if that were possible.

Am beginning to think that my friends who are indifferent to football have a point but my fellow football supporters are very entertaining.  One of them, a Chelsea supporter, sent me this message before the latest match:  “Give Chelsea a 3-goal start and I still fancy Spurs this week…”

Goodness knows why because Chelsea are miles ahead of us in the table and my reply was:  “Don’t be daft, we’ll be lucky to keep 10 men on the pitch.”  That’s a reference to a recent encounter, at our place, when we went down to nine men and Chelsea scored four goals.

These two teams really don’t like each other, it’s usually feisty and beyond and one Spurs fan predicted that only 19 of the 22 players would still be on the pitch at the end.  Amazingly, there were still 22 left as we trudged off and Chelsea skipped – after TWELVE minutes of added time.  It was 1-nil to them – both sides had a goal disallowed – but we were woeful, so disappointing.

We’re still in Europe, so Ange, our Australian manager, is still in a job but we’re edging towards the point where I seem to be the only person wanting him to stay for next season.  Far too often our lot look as though they’ve never met, let alone played or trained together.  My mate, whose optimism is at a low ebb, was vaguely heartened and wrote:  “Chelsea at least look like someone has actually opened a defensive manual.”

“Think ours is in some ancient Aboriginal language understood only by a handful of elders.”  A bit of a cheap crack perhaps but I think the elders would at least get their point across – providing the players are willing to listen and capable of taking things in.  Footballers don’t need to be super smart but please, please, give them a footballing brain.

Once the footie started I was only keeping half an eye on Selena Soo’s ‘Rich Relationships’ book launch/seminar.  I sign up to all sorts of things, goodness knows why really; it’s a bit late for self improvement or becoming a multi-millionaire and no one would ever think of me as an entrepreneur but you come across all sorts of interesting people and it can be inspirational:   “I was a teacher, tired of being broke; faith over fear; breathe with your heart; be a rich giver.”  And the title of one of the books really made me laugh.  It’s also well worth reading apparently.

There’s a lot of pleading – please, please, please –  in this blog and I do need a bit of help from all those car buffs out there, please!  My sturdy Ford Fiesta is starting to show signs of age, admittedly not helped by the recent brush with Mo’s rockery, so I’m looking for a replacement.  I nearly crashed in to a bus because I was so busy eyeing up every car coming towards me and wondering if it would be the one…

Electric, hybrid, petrol?  What’s for the best?  Last week I was at a talk given by Mike Berners-Lee on the first day of Lichfield’s Literature Festival but he was so busy signing copies of his new book and answering more lofty questions that my choice of car fell by the roadside.  Instead I emailed his company Small World Consulting Ltd and got a very detailed and helpful response from Jenny, who referred me to Mike’s book “How Bad Are Bananas” and quoted a lot of figures related to our carbon footprint, with advice on how best to reduce it.

Walking is best, of course but not always possible if, for instance, you want to get from Lichfield to a wedding in Leamington Spa, a reception in Claverdon, a hotel in Warwick and a 70th birthday lunch in Wrexham…

There’s a wonderful weekend in store.