Pink Hair

Lots of people have it in for Poulter – if only he'd put as much effort into his game as he does into his clothes, yadda yadda. Me? I like him. He wears his collared shirt and tailored trousers as rudely as possible. Like a schoolboy, he has an air of rebellion without breaking a letter of the rules - practically daring the teachers to tell him off. Hootie is famously rumoured to have done just that, of course, with a warning not to dye his hair for his Masters appearance in 2004. The result was that Hootie looked blustering and impotent and not unlike Basil Fawlty. Its not a big leap to see the similarity between Hootie and the oldies who reminisce about how back in their day there was respect and you could leave your front door unlocked.

Every generation thinks the next one is up to no good, and there's always some mythical golden age when golf was played by gentlemen, and gentlemen didn't go round dyeing their hair or wearing jeans. I don't think the world of golf needs to be turned upside down (put those pitchforks down) but a dash of modern thinking can be no bad thing, surely?

Anyway, the reason for this unseasonal mention of Ian Poulter is that, in a mini-tribute to him, I have dyed my hair pink and purple. I'll report back on whether the Lady Captain has anything to say about it.

(Photo from ericskiff on Flickr, and no that is not me. It's pink but it's not that pink)

A golf course is like porridge

His Lordship has just come back from a weekend in the arms of the big old dames of Scotland, St Andrews, Carnoustie, Kingsbarns. My souvenir was a tin of tees and a pitchmark repair tool – the tin that you get free when you play St Andrews. Lucky me.

Anyway, he and his buddies couldn't agree on which was their favourite course. St Andrews Old Course is The Old Course, and he had goosebumps teeing off on the 17th. But between Carnoustie and Kingsbarns, there was some debate. Carnoustie was really hard - either “a beast” or “the big guy”. According to one point of view, it was a real test of golfing ability. From another point of view, it was almost unfair, since it wouldn't allow you to score well, even if you were hitting good shots. Depending on which side you take, then, Kingsbarns was fair, since it punished you for a bad shot but rewarded good golf, or alternatively it was just not as testing.

On my less-celebrated home course, the same debate continues endlessly in a smaller way, at the moment partly inspired by the state of the rough. There are some who think the rough is too thick and it's too easy to lose your ball. Others (including myself) are of the view that you should really be hitting the ball into the rough (although we all do) and that the whole point of the rough is to be trouble.

One lady I know is considering changing golf clubs, and she told me about one of the clubs she is thinking about. The course is lovely, she says. The rough isn't too thick, there aren't any water hazards... a bit like Goldilocks' porridge, it's just right. On the other hand, one of the other ladies I play with came to our club because her old course wasn't hard enough. It wasn't very long, there were no water hazards...

So the moral of the story is that there's no perfect temperature for porridge. Actually I think there is such a thing as a fair test, although exactly what that is I'm not sure. Not too hot, not too cold... you know. I should take up writing for American sitcoms I'm so good at moralising at the end.

(Totally cute cat photo from Scott MacLeod Liddle on Flickr)

Whether to seek fame (and spend a fortune) or to search for hidden treasure

I went away for a golf weekend with some friends a little while ago, and the negotiations about where we would play weren't as easy as you might think, as we all think about courses in different ways. What kind of course should it be? How do you know if it's going to be any good? They were keen on somewhere well-known, preferably Championship. While I wasn't too fussed about the green fees the big names demand, I didn't mind and so went with the flow.

We settled on a course which was PGA championship approved, and it was a good course, with plenty of water and some difficult decisions, and very well maintained. On the second day, though, we played that club's other course, the non-PGA championship, poor sibling course, and lord, but wasn't that one better? It used the landscape beautifully. There were some great views and vistas, and it felt like the course was really a natural part of the countryside in which it was built, instead of carved out of it as so many courses are. Some very memorable holes, each hole with its own character, and tricky enough to make you think hard before reaching for your club. Poor sibling? More like Cinderella! Without the airs and pomposity of the 'big' course, it was lovely.

The reason we were there was for the big-name big-brother, which wasn't shabby by any means. But the one I really enjoyed and really remember is the hidden treasure further up the hill.

Photo from Bern@t on Flickr