Well, the Beast from the East has arrived and with sub zero temperatures and a white vista outside the window I wondered how to put my unexpected free schedule to good use.  I then remembered Mum used to love watching golf from sunny, warm climes while we were in the depths of our winter.  She said it made her feel that our spring and warm golf were just around the corner and so I decided to make a start on my research for commentating at this year’s Masters, hoping for a similarly uplifting experience.

Not much golf happening round here!

It worked!  I immersed myself once again in the history and mystery of Augusta in April and rediscovered all sorts of little gems about the tournament.

Did you know, for example, that the Manor House, which still serves as the main part of the clubhouse was built in 1854?  In 1961 the official Masters Trophy, featuring the oft-updated and extended clubhouse, was commissioned and made in sterling silver .  It is kept on permanent display in the clubhouse but every Masters Champion receives a splendid replica, 13.5 inches wide.  But, unless you’ve been to the tournament I bet you’ve never seen the trophy.  Can you think of any other major sporting event where that’s the case?  And how much money do you think the winner takes home?  Well………that’s another thing that’s kept under wraps.  It’s not the done thing to talk about it.  The victor also receives a gold medal and a lifetime’s invitation to the Masters.

The little-seen, unheralded Masters Trophy.

What we are more familiar with is the Masters green jacket, or coat, as it used to be called back in the day, arguably the most coveted piece of clothing in all of sport.  Bobby Jones, founder of the Masters, attended a dinner prior to the 1930 Open Championship at Hoylake and was fascinated by the tradition entitling the past captains of Royal Liverpool Golf Club to wear distinctive red coats with tails, blue collars and brass buttons.  He found himself placed next to the immediate past captain, Kenneth Stoker, and when Jones expressed his admiration for the jacket and the tradition, Stoker promised to give him his jacket should he lift the Claret Jug at the end of the week.  The rest is history and Stoker’s jacket hangs in Jones’ club, Atlanta Athletic Club, to this day.

Green suits everyone!

The seed of an idea had been sown although it did take a wee while to germinate.  In 1937, chairman Clifford Roberts bought a supply of green jackets, encouraging the members to wear them so that they would be instantly recognisable to the spectators at the tournament and an easy source of information.  Soon the members began wearing the jackets when they visited the club and when Sam Snead won the Masters in 1949 he was presented with a green jacket of his own to signify he was an honorary club member.  That tradition continues and all Masters winners prior to 1949 were retrospectively presented with their own jackets.  All the jackets are kept at the Augusta National Golf Club for use when the players visit and it is only the current champion who is permitted to have his jacket with him for the year he holds the title.

From one item of clothing to another – and the dreaded, much hated (by the wearers) white boiler suits, the required dress code for the caddies.  Made of non-breathable, thick material the caddies swelter their way around one of the most undulating, challenging layouts they see all year, doing their best to stay mentally tip-top for their player while lugging a huge tournament bag.  The caddy of the defending champion wears the number one on his suit and everyone else gets their number from the order in which their player arrives to register for the tournament.

And that’s another thing – it’s a tournament, apparently, not a championship…….and the people who come to watch are not spectators, fans or galleries.  They are patrons.  Whatever you call them, they are the most immaculately behaved sports fans you will find anywhere and exceptionally knowledgeable to boot.  I do think, however, they should be allowed to bring periscopes into the grounds to aid their viewing experience – essential at any well supported golf event, where it’s often twelve to fifteen deep around greens and tees.

Back to one of my pet hates – spitting.  You certainly won’t see any of that going on at Augusta.  It really is a little bit of heaven – and frequently warm heaven at that.  As I look outside the window again I see that the Beast from the East is still prowling around and seems to have been joined by another playmate, Emma from Portugal.  Oh dear, roll on April, the Masters, azaleas and green, green vistas.

“I’m not writing about The July Club this week,”  I said to Patricia a few days ago.  “I did that this time last year and I don’t want to do the same thing twice.  I’ll do a tip.”  For those of you who missed it, last year’s offering can be seen by copying and pasting  http://www.madillgolf.com/places/portstewart-portrush-castlerock-a-trio-of-golfing-delights into your browser.

It only took a couple of glorious golfing days in Fife to make me change my mind and, after all, it’s not every day you get to play the Old Course at St Andrews.  Actually, that’s not quite strictly true.  There was a time many moons ago when, as a student here, I could indeed play the Old – well, maybe not every day, but in fact, quite a lot.  My £12 student fee gained me access pretty much any time to the four courses that in those days made up the St Andrews Links experience, namely the Old, the New, the Eden and the Jubilee.  But, of course, being young and foolish, there is a tendency not to take full advantage when something is constantly there on a plate for you.  In those days there was still the practice of playing the course in reverse for three months or so at a time over the winter.  And of course, being VERY young and VERY foolish, I spurned this opportunity, something I’ll regret to my dying day.  It’s only the odd weekend that the reverse route is now used.

You just have to pose here for a photo, don’t you?

So, last Monday, the July Club (consisting of Yours Truly, Gillian Stewart, Mary McKenna and Sandra Ross) commenced its annual golf week on the Old under bright blue skies, with hope in the heart and a sleeve of new balls in hand to mark the occasion.  Shortly after leaving the 3rd tee I had the feeling we were being followed by something.  A couple of crows were walking and hopping up the fairway around us.  They’d come to meet my caddy, Susan Squire, who has trained them to come and find her on the course for a small reward of a handful of porridge oats.  I can’t say that crows have ever been my favourite bird but The Runner and Psycho Crow, both of whom returned for another visit when we were on the 15th, were remarkably friendly.

Sue and The Runner

Psycho Crow arrives for lunch

We had a great day on the links, all playing pretty well, with the exception of the 11th hole which vanquished us with ease – halved in six, double the par – and made our caddies laugh.  Sue, Dave Hutcheson and Dave Lindsey, all experts at their craft, were good company and a fund of information, past and present, about the courses and St Andrews.  They enhanced our Old Course experience immeasurably.

Nailed it off 18 – and still short of Granny Clark’s Wynd!

The July Club alongside the best caddies in the business – Sue, Dave “The Badger” Lindsey and Dave Hutcheson.

The perfect end to the day was sharing a drink with Gordon Moir, the Director of Greenkeeping, St Andrews Links Trust, to give him his full title, in the St Andrews Golf Club, one of three clubs of which he’s a member.  As always, I’m drawn to the fascinating memorabilia on display and there was a great picture of the eminent professional and clubmaker Allan Robertson, who in 1858 was the first person to break 80 on the Old Course.  Try that with a handful of hickory-shafted clubs and featheries.  How strange to be looking at that picture a mere 24 hours after Ross Fisher had had a putt on the last for a 59.  Three putts from the Valley of Sin meant a 61 was recorded, a magnificent achievement, but there’s no doubt in my mind at all which was the more difficult feat of the two.  Sorry Ross.

Gordon Moir, genial host and at the very top of his profession.

So, next it was on to Ladybank Golf Club, the original stomping ground of our old pal Dale Reid and the principal reason this course has always been on my bucket list.  Dale, one of Scotland’s finest women golfers, now living in Oz, was a ferocious competitor through her multi-titled amateur and professional days, recording 23 professional wins worldwide and topping the European Order of Merit twice.  She played in four Solheim Cup teams and captained two, most famously in her homeland in 2000 when Europe defeated the USA at Loch Lomond. An honorary member of the Ladies’ European Tour, she was awarded the OBE in the 2001 New Year’s Honours List.  Although short in stature, Reidy gave the ball an almighty thump and Gill remembers her using an old wooden-headed 2-wood off the tee.  No driver for Dale!  She just loved that 2-wood.  It wasn’t always the same story with her putter, however, which I remember she was frequently changing.  But when she had her eye in – look out!  She was well-nigh unbeatable.

Dale Reid.  Hmm, time for the club to update her record, surely?!

As so often happens when we come to play a course, we discover the pro has decided to take a holiday.  Is there a message there, I wonder?  Head professional Sandy Smith was away in sunnier climes but a congenial welcome from teaching pro Gregor Wright and the members ensured a lovely start to the day and with glorious weather the course was a treat.  However, without our caddies from the day before we struggled with the reading of the greens.  “Not as much borrow as you think,” was the advice on our return to the pro’s shop.  “Too late, too late,” we cried.  Ah well, that’ll just have to mean a return trip.

Visiting Ladybank in honour of Dale.

Later in the week we moved counties – up to Angus and Carnoustie, host of the 2018 Open Championship but more of that wonderful visit another time.

That was our sixth July Club outing and next year it’s Ireland’s turn again.  So, new venues to be discussed, accommodation sourced and plans to be made.  It’ll be a tough call to top having the Home of Golf as a base and a round on the Old.  We can’t be bested by the Scotties, though, so any suggestions, anyone?

There are six of us on holiday in Scotland this week, on the wild and (relatively) inaccessible Applecross peninsula and even though five of us are golfers of one level or another, we haven’t hit a shot between us.  We did try to watch the Walker Cup from Los Angeles but the time difference and the walloping – not to mention our windswept tramping of hills and rocky shores – sent us to bed early.  We might keep an eye on the Evian Masters – though it seems to be as wet and wild in France as it is here and I’m not so sure an event calling itself a major should be reduced to 54 holes at the earliest opportunity – and the PGA Cup boys are at Foxhills in Surrey.  That’s the club professionals of GB and I, who are the holders, against the United States.  Good luck to them all.  You don’t nip anywhere from Applecross so we’ll be cheering from afar.

The GB and I PGA Cup team 2017.

I brought my cherished Peter Broadbent persimmon driver to Scotland, thinking that we could find a beach somewhere and have a bit of fun trying to hit a titchy-headed club that we all used to wield with a certain amount of proficiency. There aren’t many flat bits round by here and the tide always seems to be in, so that experiment is something for a later date. This blog might be too, given the well-nigh non-existent internet connection at speeds of 0.something if you’re lucky. Kayaking photographs may have to be added at a later date….

No doubt there are technical whizzes in this neck of the Highlands who have super fast everything because how else could you run a business or take payments or update your website or fiddle around with photographs and film or whatever? Answers on a postcard please because time is no longer of the essence.

So, what have we been doing here in the absence of golf?  Lots of walking – no problem clocking up 10,000 steps and more; some sea kayaking with Tom, originally from Yorkshire now from one of the Shieldaigs, spotting seals and sea eagles (some great pics but you’ll have to take my word for it); feeding Henry the pig, our neighbour across the way; hopping out of the way of cars and bikers pursuing the North Coast 500; eating delicious sea food and wonderful cakes; encountering tubby gardeners; photographing Highland cows of every colour; cooing over views unequalled anywhere; enjoying ice cream in the pouring rain; and chatting with people from all over the world. It was bliss before turning into blog hell!  Ah well.

Last but not least, congrats to the wonderful women of Whittington Heath who reached the final of the Taskers for the second time, beating Charnwood Forest at Erewash Valley but fell to Kibworth in the 5th round of the Annodata UK Golf Club Classic.  The best of luck to Kibworth who now head off to Spain for the final stages at Montecastillo, Cadiz and from what I remember of the Volvo Masters there, they’ll need their climbing boots.  It’s pretty up and down and we intrepid spectators were glared at by Colin Montgomerie for breathing too heavily as he contemplated his options at a short hole with a tee at Corbett-ish height.  If he’d had any concept of empathy, he’d have congratulated us on our climb, complimented us on our fortitude and taken his time so we could get our breath back.

Monty being Monty, he swung away, missed the green, glared at us again and stomped off, muttering.

Happy days.

The question I’ve been asked most this week is:  “Did you enjoy the Open?  Wasn’t it marvellous?”  And the only thing I can say is:  “Yes.  It was marvellous.”

I stayed with a friend in Formby and got the train in every day to Hillside, the station that’s a short walk from Royal Birkdale and it was a joy, crammed to a greater or lesser degree with golf fans of all ages and nationalities, intermingled with the odd local off to shop in Southport.  They pointed out the courses en route – Formby, and Formby Ladies, where, if memory serves me right, Michelle Wie launched her opening drive in the Curtis Cup singles out of bounds onto the railway line; Southport & Ainsdale; and Hillside.  It’s a wonderful stretch of golfing territory and Birkdale was in magnificent condition, showed off to its best advantage in a variety of weathers.

The train taking the strain, more or less.

Jordan Spieth, now rather higher up the Open pecking order than most people, said it suited his eye from the moment he saw it but he was nervous enough to wobble on the last day and provide a finish for the ages.  It was a bit of a miracle that anyone even found his ball at the 13th but after escaping with an outrageous bogey, it was as though he’d nipped into the phone booth to change and emerged turbo-charged.  He has a golfing brain that’s as impressive as his putting stroke and it was lovely to see his golfing mates waiting for him at the end, clad in their hoodies.  Hope they were allowed in the clubhouse to celebrate afterwards.

I watched the last day on the telly because there was a train strike threatened for Sunday and my station was being by-passed but I must admit that my viewing was supplemented by 5 Live on the radio, bypassing the ads and director’s delay.  It was all compelling stuff, more than rivalling the end of the Tour de France and England’s last-gasp victory against India in the final of the Women’s Cricket World Cup at Lord’s.  The only downside was that my step count plummeted from the many thousands to the few hundreds.

The post-Open questionnaire that plopped into my inbox wanted to know what had drawn me to attend the championship in person.  To improve my own game?  Are you daft?  Although the Swing Zone was booked out.  So, was the great attraction watching the world’s best players up close?  Well, besides meeting up with friends, it’s the main factor.  And, despite the crowds, you can see quite a lot, though you have to be clued up.  On Saturday, a gorgeous day for golf, I discovered that the 5th hole is ideal for watching.  You can see the entire hole – and, if you’re in the right spot, part of the 4th green.  You’re not far from tea, coffee, beer (bit of a dodgy subject, especially on a hot day), ice cream, burgers and loos.  And, when the tee is up and the conditions benign, plenty of players go for the green (it’s a par 4) and there’s lots of action to keep you interested.  Trouble is, will I remember this gem next time the Open’s at Birkdale?  Unlikely!

All geared up for viewing at the 5th.

And will I remember that trying to get to the 12th green to watch Rory, or whoever the chief luminary is next time around, is a waste of time unless I leave several hours before his tee time?  Probably not.  He and Spieth should still be in their prime but, then again, who knows?  Look at the people, like former US Open champion Graeme McDowell, who failed to qualify this time and the stalwarts, like Laura Davies, who are having to qualify for next week’s Ricoh British Women’s Open at Kingsbarns.  Age creeps up on us all, no matter how gifted.

It’s the Senior (British) Open at Royal Porthcawl, another divine links, this week and the good thing is that, good though these enduring old codgers are, aided by modern equipment and a passion for competition, we can probably keep track of their balls with the naked eye, so to speak…

The seemingly ageless Bernhard Langer coping with Royal Porthcawl at the Senior Open [Getty Images]