Dear comrades, next week marks two years away from Brisneyland and the gradual embedding into all things Adelaide. I swung a golf club in the backyard yesterday as a reminder of golfing days past, watched the shoulder turn in the reflection of the back windows of the house and concluded I have been stretching a bit at the ball, stand taller, man. Could be a metaphor for life...
The Adelaide winter briskness yesterday afternoon reminded me of Saturday's in July at the 'pilly, final group, a titanic struggle underway, big bucks (?) on the line, holes closing in fast, light fading, a hooked drive (not from me, obviously), a mistimed approach, a putt that never broke, the cry of lost luck (actually, more like 'F*ck, I am the unluckiest golfer in the world...'). All the while a quiet word to a partner, 'We've got these pricks, Golly hasn't made par-par finish for a decade...". All this followed by a cool drink - winter was always characterised by a lazy post-match rum n coke. Delightful. Have just consumed one for old times sake.
Hope you are all well. News would be welcome on Chief's and Schnapp's career movements and Shirls' and Doc's wedding arrangements, plus sundry info about children etc.
Open starts next week. The website has a treasure trove of footage from years gone by, I think my fave is John Daly winning at St Andrews in 1995 and Constantino Rocca binning a 100 footer from off the 18th green, after flumming his pitch, to force a playoff. Superb.
Just got to survive some more late nights from the Tour de France... Bloody superb. Go Cadel!
Hugs
Lord
