I know that's an increadible overstatement but I think about it more than once in a while. It seems like weeks ago that I was enjoying the mineral springs of Bath. Months ago when Gena and I were drinking Hasserode's in the living room in Darlingerode. Only days ago syaing a painfull goodbye to Gena at the airport. Yet some days seem like they stretch over weeks. The morning belongs to one week, the afternoon to the next.
Grey days are good for introspection. Today's a really grey, miserable day. The kind of day you see on tv, once every five years, when the Open is on.
Steaming out of Edinburgh towards St. Andrews. Didn't feel like walking around in the rain again so a little drive seemed like a good idea. (I'll buy an umbrella when I get there)
The famous 18th hole at the Old Course. To play here you must book in advance, have an 11 handicap (or less) and pay $182. Oh, you can only play 4 balls too (that wouldn't get me off the first tee).
Just to the North of the the Old Course are the beaches of the North Sea. If balls could float, you might collect them in Denmark.
The infamous stone bridge on 18. Thunk, splash. Thunk, splash. "Just take a drop tincup".
The "Road Hole" bunker in 17.
For the most part it looked like a lot of Northern Michigan courses except that the greens are immaculate in spite of it being February.
At 53 degrees North, if you were travelling there from Detroit, you'd be halfway to the Hudson Bay in Ontario. By comparison, Detroit at 42 degrees would put you near San Pedro Manrique, Spain. How's the weather down South?
From St Andrews I shot west to Glasgow which is not a very photogenic city. I did find something worth photographing at the Pot Still Tavern. A 17 year old Talisker. I liked her 20 y/o sister Edradour too.
Buy two, get water free!