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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.”