Carry On Swinging

Into our second week of lockdown and I’m already wondering how I used to fit in all the things I used to do in a day!  Am I the only one beginning to forget how to get dressed properly in the morning?  I find myself just reaching for the nearest old jeans or gardening trousers and sloppy top.  The hair still gets a brush pulled through it, but, make-up?  Forget it – that’s only for a day I get out into the big, wide world to go food shopping, something that up until now I had only ever considered as a bit of a chore.  Oh, and the lippy might go on on a day I think I may be Facetiming or Zooming (my latest skill) lots of people.

I am out in the garden now, more than ever, but “gardening” is a bit of a grand name for what I do – it’s just tidying and weeding – and it’s only an hour at a time because of my baulky back.  There is one great addition to the garden, however, and I have to report that the self-assembly golf net has, indeed, self-assembled and is now proudly centre stage in front of the house.  I must point out here that the front of our house is not the roadside side.  It’s the other side, so nicely secluded from the view of our neighbours riding, cycling, jogging or walking past.

It meant there were no witnesses to my first shot meant to christen the net.  The ball sailed straight over the top of the bar, over the hedge into the field next door.  What’s more it started its journey in England and finished in Wales without even a nod hello to the net on the way over.  Not surprisingly I’ve now moved in a little closer and find that works much better!  I’ve even persuaded my better half to have a go and am hoping he may get hooked on the Royal & Ancient game despite having eluded all my previous efforts in the last 17 years.

I see this week that the European Tour have postponed the Dubai Duty Free Irish Open scheduled to be played at the lovely Mount Juliet towards the end of May.  It’s an impossible ever-changing, giant Sudoku/jigsaw puzzle of a task for all sports bodies as they survey their various fixture lists lying in tatters.  The uncertainty of the duration of the virus is hand-tying for them and I can only imagine the hours of work going in to making provisional arrangements that will be destined never to see the light of day as new challenges arise across the globe.

It has been cruel, cruel timing for the Ladies’ European Tour, which has struggled to provide playing opportunities for their members for a long time.  With their alliance with the LPGA cemented in autumn last year all looked rosy for the first time for decades.  The older I get the more I realise that timing is everything in life.

Another email has just crashed into my inbox – this one from the R&A, rescheduling the Amateur Championship and the Women’s Amateur to August and postponing the Curtis Cup, due to be played at glorious Conwy, until 2021.  There’s another task on my list now – trying to rearrange the accommodation I booked for Conwy for six of us without incurring financial penalties.

I’m embroiled with the airlines as well over flights that were booked for the Masters and the PGA.  I have yet to be notified that my flight on Monday to Atlanta has been cancelled but I’ve received notification that my return flight is cancelled!  Refund is not a word in the current lexicon of the airlines – they want you to rebook……..and who knows how many of them will still be in business down the line?  Survival is very, very hard at the moment and most certainly not guaranteed.

You may have seen on social media the request to post online a favourite golf picture, no comment, no explanation required.  I think it’s a really nice idea so I started trawling through my endless boxes of photos to find one that I could share with you.  This one does need a little explanation, however.  It’s the earliest picture I have of playing golf with the family and I think it’s taken in 1968 at Boat of Garten Golf Club in the picturesque Cairngorm mountains.  That’s Mum holding her putter in the front right corner of the photo and Patricia took the snap.  I remember the moment well – Dad, a demon putter, had holed yet again from off the green and I looked at him with total admiration and awe.  As this trend continued for several decades I know my expression moved to becoming more one of irritation than adulation!  Happy, happy memories, though.  Stay safe, everyone.