GOLF STORY #3

Jeanette telephoned me from Edinburgh this morning, where she is sojourning for a few days. She had seen some 'proper' knitting bags, and would I like her to buy one for me? Then I wouldn't need to put my knitting in her basket when we go to Clicking Needles. I suspect she may be embarrassed at being seen offloading my squares and the possibility that the ladies think they might be hers. So I readily agreed to purchase a knitting bag, a bargain at seven pounds.

At 9.30 Paul came and collected me, my golf bag and Andy's golf buggy and off we went to Alyth golf course for 16 holes (holes 1 and 18 are under repair). I looked a bit like the Michelin Man - as it was a cold and wet day I had layers of sweaters topped off by wet weather golf gear. My right hand froze - next time I play I am going to be better prepared and buy hand warmers, a right hand glove and a pair of mittens. I'm glad I bought the Sherpa hat.

I was enchanted to see that this golf course also named all the holes - but only on the Ladies card as it turned out. Paul had not previously known that each hole had a name - maybe Scottish men consider it's soft to give golf holes a name? My favourites were The Teuchats Tryst (3), Heathery Muir (8), Tyke's Shank (13) and Ship Ahoy (2).

I carried a wee astro turf mat with me as every ball on the fairway had to be played off the mat, to preserve the turf. As I didn't see much of the fairway, I didn't have too many opportunities to use my mat. This might give you a reasonable indication of how I played although Paul did want to arrange another game with himself and the local QC - obviously he realises having me tag along is a great ego-boost.

Daftly, I took my camera thinking there might be some opportunity to snap some of the views or local wildlife but somehow I manage to lose it (the camera) - I think it dropped out on The Kirrie Road (6) where I lost a ball in the burn. So no photos for a few days until either it is found by a wayward golfer burrowing in the rough for his ball, or I buy a replacement.

It was getting dark by the time I got back to the cottage, just in time for Australian Jenny's knock on the door. She has recently taken over running one of the local hotels and is married to the local beekeeper. Bees have had bad seasons lately which is not good news for their line of honey and beeswax candles, but the hotel is the big project. I have offered to help write her brochure and lend a hand if they are short-staffed.

After two cups of tea and some chockie biccies, we had swapped potted life histories and agreed that whilst Scotland has its virtues, life should be organised to ensure it doesn't include extended time away from the blue skies of Australia.