Here we go again.

The blog has been in hibernation for seven weeks because, frankly, we needed a break even though in some parts of the world professional golf has continued relentlessly all through December and January.  Players were plying their trade in proper tournaments down in Australia and South Africa while others kicked back in the more relaxed atmosphere of Tiger’s bash, the Hero World Challenge, which only has a handful of invited players – twenty, to be precise.  There’s no cut, a million dollars to the winner and north of $150,000 to the last place finisher.  No thanks.  Well, no thanks to watching, but yes please to being one of the twenty.

There’s also Rory and Tiger’s TGL team thing which I must confess I can’t quite get into.  It seems to be fun for the players involved but, for me, it doesn’t quite cut the mustard as a great spectator sport.  I’d rather watch The Traitors.

By the way, the calendar at the top is Mary McKenna’s Christmas present to me, packed with a dozen of her spectacular photos.  You may well see more of them throughout the year.

At last, however, the merry-go-round that is this humble blog has had its first gentle push (from some of you sending texts demanding to know when would Friday mornings again herald a new post) and the machinery is slowly but surely gathering pace after a welcome snooze.

There hasn’t been much snoozing by Scottie Scheffler, the world No 1, who looks set to hang on to that title for quite some time.  He last played a regular PGA Tour event back in September which, of course, he won.  That was two weeks before the Ryder Cup.  Seems eons ago, doesn’t it?

Well, Scottie sallied out last week in his first full-field event in over four months – and won.  Quite easily, in fact.  The newly-minted American Express champion seems to like La Quinta and playing in the Californian desert.  Much of the coverage was declaring that for Scheffler it was business as usual but, early and all as it is in the year, I think there’s something different about him this season.  I think he’s better than ever.

That’s a scary thought for everyone else and who’d bet against the Texan joining the Grand Slam winners’ enclosure in June after the US Open?  We waited 25 years for Rory McIlroy to become member number six.  There will only be a gap of fourteen months if Scottie wins his national Open to become member number seven of that elite club.  And let’s not forget that Jordan Spieth could beat him to it by winning the PGA Championship in May………but, somehow, I don’t have the same sense of inevitability about that particular scenario unfolding.  Time will tell.

I’m delighted to bring heartwarming Welsh news to my first blog of the year.  A couple of weeks ago Lydia Hall nervelessly rattled in an 18-footer on the last green to win the Vic Open on the Australasian Tour by four shots.

A native of Bridgend, Lydia is now 38 years of age and I’ve been a huge fan of her game since I first met her when she was 13.  She was a contemporary of some wonderful young Welsh talent at the time – think Solheim Cup player Becky Brewerton and Curtis Cup player Breanne Loucks.  They pulled the best from each other and benefitted from being nurtured by Wales’s wonderful captain and manager, the late Sue Turner.  How proud Sue was of them early in their careers – and how thrilled she’d have been to witness all their achievements, as am I.

More Welsh news thudded in to my inbox with the announcement of the appointment of Julie Thomas as incoming Wales Golf President.  Julie follows in the not inconsiderable footsteps of Andy Ingram, former Walker Cup captain, but I know she’ll bring her own special energy and pizazz to the role.  She will be the only president to have represented her country at every single level, from junior international right through to senior international, spanning more than four decades.  In fact, with her playing and captaincy records for county and country and with volunteering and refereeing duties under her belt, Julie continues the long line of wonderful officials produced by the Principality.  The decade plus I had working with the then Welsh Ladies’ Golf Union was one of the most enjoyable and rewarding spells of my career and it’s a joy for me to see the accomplishments of so many that I knew from back in the day.

But, let’s just set the record straight here before you think I’ve swapped the shamrock for the dragon.  I’m a huge Welsh golf supporter, but with the Six Nations rugby about to start next week I’ll be wearing the green through and through.  Apparently we take on France in Paris next Thursday.  Thursday???  Must be the great god television calling the shots there, I think, as I don’t recall there being a Thursday match before.  Wales don’t get under way until the Saturday when they travel down to Twickers [now, officially, the Allianz Stadium  -ed], so we both have daunting opening matches in the campaign.

Throughout the turn of the year I’ve still tried to get out a couple of times a week with the old Nordic Walking poles and below is a snap taken during one of the walks around my local lanes.  Daffodils in bud used to signal the Sunningdale Foursomes (played in late March) for me.  I took this on January 25th (Burns night).

Who says there’s no such thing as global warming?

Hello.

Is there anybody out there?

Maureen and I hope so because madillgolf is back – for a while at least – and we’d like to wish our friends a happy new year and hope you’re ready and willing to start reading again.

Bearing in mind that Mo insists that this blog is about golf, I’m going to start with that, though as many of you know I don’t necessarily agree with the sister’s assessment.  I do, however, read a lot of stuff about golf, in fact my inbox is so stuffed that the other day I unsubscribed from National Club Golfer, shock, horror.

I may well relent but in a fit of irritation at how long it was taking me to find a piece – highlighted in the email – about some novel ruling or other, I decided I’d had enough of all the noise and needed a break.  There are only so many opinions a woman of diminishing brain can take in, so many podcasts she can earmark to listen to (and never does) and so many bloody annoying ads she can try to ignore, then delete and find herself accessing because she’s missed the teensy-weensy little x that’s up in the right-hand corner, requiring a Luke Littler-like control of the cursor to hit the bullseye….You get my drift.

Anyway Scottie Scheffler – remember the name – roared back on tour with a commanding victory.  He probably won’t win every event he plays in but I won’t be betting against him and after reading one of my favourite blogs (not about to be banished any time soon) I won’t be spending my time matching his achievements up against those of Tiger Woods or anybody else from the past…Promise.

Jim McCabe, who spent many years on the golf beat for the Boston Globe, writes Power Fades, aka A New Englander’s Take on Golf, celebrating his enduring love for the game.  It comes out every Wednesday and is a real treat.  He’s an unashamed Scheffler fan (hard not to be) and counsels:  “….you can marvel and embrace the brilliant story that Scottie Scheffler is still very much working on.  Let it breathe, let it play out, let it grow even more marvelously [sic – he is American after all].  And let it stand alone and not be held up to comparisons.  It’s way too good for that.”

Well, I doubt we’ll stop comparing but one of the reasons I wanted to mention Jim’s piece this week is because he used a favourite photo of his that I couldn’t resist sharing – hope that’s OK, Jim.

Oh, if you do head over to have a look at powerfades.com, don’t forget to read the front 9 musings, great fun and often thought-provoking.  There’s always a golf course sign, snapped in the wild but I haven’t seen one of my favourites – yet.  Admittedly, it’s a very old cartoon, unearthed from Dai’s treasures, so who knows if it’s just a figment of the imagination…

And, of course, there’s this, a genuine sign that used to be on the wall in the car park of the old clubhouse at Whittington Heath GC.  I had hoped that it was a nice metal one but it’s just cheap plastic, so no one minded when I liberated it when everything was demolished and we moved down the road (and round the corner).  It’s now above my front door, much to some people’s horror….and my amusement.

Moving back to more serious stuff, I was watching a bit of the European golf from Bahrain where the afternoon brigade had to deal with a swirling wind that made scoring tricky.  Dad, raised on the breezes in the west of Ireland, would have insisted on calling it a zephyr and tut-tutted at those who thought there was a problem.  It was great to see Andrew Johnston, affectionately known as Beef, back in action and playing well.  He took time out for a while, having found, like so many talented sports people (and others), that life in the spotlight was hard to cope with.  Here’s to many more good rounds and happy times.

As you can see, the quality of many of the illustrations still leaves something to be desired but if they raise a smile or two, they’ll have done their job.  The budget doesn’t rise to a dedicated photographer, illustrator, art editor and if you want a partner when you’re playing Pictionary (ghastly game), don’t come looking for me.  We played it once, a few Christmases ago and my team and I were lapped – probably more than once – by friends and family crowing with delight and showing no mercy.  Never again.  No artistic talent here.

Just in case you’re wondering, the featured pic (the wee thing at the top of the piece, all being well technically) was a pressie from a friend, a drinks mat that she thought came close to summing me up, she said.  Admittedly, I am inclined to bop about, without much rhythm, at every opportunity but two spinning ceilings and one lost Saturday many years ago ensured that I rarely drank to excess again.  Honest.

Of course, it all depends on your definition of excess but I like to remember Harry Vardon’s response when he was approached by a persistent member of the Temperance Society.  “Madam,” he said, drawing himself up to his full height.  “I have never knowingly been beaten by a teetotaller.  Now, I bid you good day.”