The Open Championship has never been sweeter than watching St. Andrews from the center of my sofa.
And while a pint would be nice I’ll take a coffee instead. Caffeine over alcohol is my morning vice.
The wind blows cross the Old Course as if propelled out an overinflated set of bagpipes. While, in my house, a warm breeze gently caresses my skin, urging me to get outside and enjoy the beautiful summer day.
I resist mother nature’s siren song and remain indoors, glued to me television screen. Unwilling to flinch or blink for fear that I’ll miss something from Scotland.
Until that is it’s time to take a mid morning snooze. By then St. Andrews will have proven itself fit for a perfect weekend of watching and dreaming.
About aces, eagles and birdies. Fish, chips and Claret Jugs. All the things that make golf so special. Here at my home of golf.