The 2010 Open Golf championship is on these next few days. The weather is very much a topic of conversation, being cold, showery and dreich. So it is quite good to be able to sit in comfort and watch excellent coverage on BBC2 TV.
I’m not a golf fan as such, in fact my relationship with golf is problematic from the start. The first time I walked round a course with my intended (as he was at the time) I was a) a bit bored; b) exhausted – couldn’t stop yawning; and c) couldn’t quite get the excitement or point of the game. In addition, I could never seem to follow the track of the ball when it was whacked down the fairway up in the sky.
On another occasion when I tried a few holes myself I made all the classic beginner’s mistakes of not hitting the ball or topping it, in danger of cutting the darned thing in half. In fact, the only time I managed to hit the ball was when I was around 7 months pregnant with our first child. Talking of being pregnant, sons #1&2 were summer babies, so each time I watched the Open in the last month and allowed myself to drift off into a pleasant snooze.
St Andrews holds a special place in my memories, so I can watch this year whilst looking out for familiar views. It was where I went to University as a mature student in 1989. I gained a BD, friends, a wider view of faith and spirituality and an ongoing excitement in exploring the world of ideas. In other words, a typical university education, only a lot later in life than most.
In my second Charge (Parish) there was a 9-hole golf course almost adjacent to the Manse. I was encouraged out to try and get some exercise on my day off. I even had a few lessons from a visiting professional. I have to admit it felt good to be able to hit a reasonable drive, but…….. and there were far too many buts. Lots of balls landed in the flooded slate quarry or even in the sea. And a few made it into the hole at the pin.
So……… as I idly gaze at the golf coverage today all sorts of things are being brought to mind. Now where are those golf clubs?