On the second Sunday in April, things appear to change. The false starts seem behind us, for spring is most definitely here. The grass almost grows before our eyes; the birdsong caresses our ears. In one particular locale there exists a precious cocoon, from which will burst forth the golfing season, and our own delicate hopes and dreams for this summer will be reflected in the eyes of the competitors on the main stage before us.
I was at Augusta with my son on Masters Sunday and much of your prose could easily have been about the Masters. Great stuff, I must come and watch the Halford Hewitt one year for I shall never play in either event!
I was at Augusta with my son on Masters Sunday and much of your prose could easily have been about the Masters. Great stuff, I must come and watch the Halford Hewitt one year for I shall never play in either event!
Go Loretto