Despite my best intentions, May and June have seen me fall into another Yogi Bear style hibernation at least where it comes to updating my blog. I can only apologise and (once again) promise to do better. If nothing else, I think the burgeoning office blog will certainly goad me into fighting fire with fire.
It?s not as if I had nothing to write about, in fact I blame it on having too much to write about. From a day spent with the genial Sergio Garcia in early May to a rather close encounter with some thunder and lightning at Sunningdale last week via doing my brains in the second round of my club championships, it?s been a busy few months.
My last two noteworthy incidents came on Sunday - where I got to touch the tank top Greg Norman wore to win the Open at Sandwich - and yesterday where I stood 320 yards down the 18th fairway on the Edinburgh course at Wentworth trying to catch David Howell?s drive on the second bounce.
The tank top touching incident came at Bill Elliott?s house where a quick look in his study (I was there for lunch with my wife and daughter) turned in to a full-on trip down memory lane. Aside from the White Shark?s apparel - which he?d given to Bill after his momentous win ? there was another momento from a Major winner... a house brick which Nick Faldo had ?hilariously? secreted in tour bag shortly before Bill was due to caddie for him on a charity event.
Yesterday?s ball-retrieving service was all part of a hastily arranged instruction shoot with GM?s playing editor. Injuries to David?s wrist and awful weather in June had conspired against us but despite flying back in from Ireland on Sunday evening and up to Scotland yesterday evening David got up at 7am to spend two and half hours working with instruction editor Neil and our photographer.
Because the shoot was fixed up quite last minute Neil hadn?t had the time to fully brief David?s on the areas we wanted him to focus on so he phoned on Sunday night to check what clubs he needed to bring. Just at the time my phone rang I was stealing a handful of the Smarties Bill and his wife had given to my daughter as a present when we left their house. The result was most undignified chocking incident as I tried to explain to David that he?d need his driver, fairway wood and some long irons while having what he probably thought was an epileptic fit. The moral of the story? Don?t steal a toddler?s sweets.
