The Birkdale Divot

Golf party's continued over the last few weeks, with the Royal Birkdale dinner on Friday. Some clubs have traditions which they continue to uphold at these events. Woolton for example always serve pheasant at their St Andrews dinner, and Formby always have the first cut of the local asparagus crop at their dinner in May.

As far as Birkdale are concerned, there always have the Birkdale Divot on the menu. In the past this has been a stuffed mushroom about the size of a child's hand, but this year it was served as a canapé  in the pre-dinner drinks reception.

At dinner I sat next to the ex-Captain who presented Mark O'Meara with the Claret Jug at Birkdale in 2000, and a gentleman who imported fruit into the uK. While he is long retired, his son still runs the business. One of the speakers at the dinner was the Lady Mayoress of Sefton. She was short and sweet, as was her speech. The new Birkdale Captain spoke well, and then it was left to the Captain of the R & A to say a few words. The poor man is a farmer from Fife, and not a natural when it comes to public speaking. May he be like a good wine and improve with age.

Next week is the final formal away day as it is the Leasowe dinner, then follows my farewell event on the Saturday.  The year group have a gathering at Royal Liverpool on 18th March and my final day in office finished on 19th at about 4pm. Two long but very enjoyable years then come to an end and normal service can be resumed!!

I managed to fit a birthday into the last week somewhere and have recollection of happy birthday being sung a few times. Tempus Fugit.

Marty Collins ( 1940-2020)

SWMBO lost her lovely father, Marty, on Thursday. He went with his family around him after degrading quite rapidly over the last few weeks.
Marty was a gentle giant. When I first met him he had long finished in the Liverpool docks, but it was there that his personality was formed. He was a hard worker and a hard player, part of a diminishing generation who lived life to the full and if you did not live life on the edge you were wasting space
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The various dock boards across the Country were great rivals. They would hold weekend sporting events in a type of mini-Olympics. Marty would compete in the swimming and in open boat, skiff type rowing and regardless of who won, a vast amount of alcohol would be consumed.  They could be in Leith, Tilbury or Portsmouth, but everybody would clock in on time  the Monday such was the work life balance of the day!!

He was also a first aider and they too would travel away to London for 'conferences'. It was a very full and active social enviromment.

He taught his four children how to swim and was an instructor to many others, and he welcomed me into his family like another son. It was quite early in our friendship that I found out why they called him ' three gulps' Marty and we had to work out a shift pattern to keep up with his drinking in the pub!

He worked in Saudi Arabia after leaving Liverpool docks, as many of his colleagues did, and that allowed him and Winnie to buy a house in Formby village. They also enjoyed time together in Paris as a half way house due to the restrictions on him returning to England for tax reasons.

Apart from Win and his family, Liverpool FC was his first love. He was a long term season ticket holder and can still be seen behind the goal in old footage from the Sixties. He is there in his big joe90 glasses with a cigarette in his mouth. It has been his wish for 30 years to see Liverpool once more atop the football pyramid, and while he was in Istanbul and at other European finals nights, it was the Championship he craved for. It is with a tinge of sadness, therefore that he was not able to follow the final few games live, nor will he see the parade as and when it is scheduled.

He will leave a huge hole in the lives of those that knew him and he will be sadly missed. RIP Marty, you will never walk alone.

Gone in a haze

The problem with having a birthday celebration which lasts three weeks is that some parts of it just become a blur and days disappear or get lost for ever. My actual birth date was one such.

I had a plan as to how my weekend would go....Friday evening in Formby with the outlaws, Saturday playing golf and chilling then a full on family luncheon on Sunday with more golf Monday morning ( my actual birth date) and then a late lunch with SWMBO.

Other people had other ideas, however, so Friday was cancelled, and Sunday became a bit more mega than expected. Alcohol was consumed at a great rate, and when the lads adjourned to the local hostility, I knew there would be trouble.

After several glasses of wine, a bloody Mary and a frozen Margarita in the restaurant, I really did not need a zombie, whatever that is, but that's tradition apparently so after  a few more beers, I decided to make my excuses and leave. I remember getting home and watching Match of the Day, but then things went a bit fuzzy.

Needless to say the next day was a complete washout and I complained about my drinks being spiked ( they weren't ), the meal disagreeing with me, and having an anti-social need for sleep!.

The rest of the crew came in from about midnight until 3am!!

The next part of the celebrations is a long weekend in Turnberry chasing a little white ball around in the wind, I must try to moderate my whiskey tasting and enjoy the view. Och aye the noo!

Bill Badger strikes again

Hasn't it been raining recently? My poor old mum in Plymouth has been battered, the Argyle game at the weekend being abandoned midway through the second half . The residents of Cockermouth in Cumbria, and Workington, up the way, have had their communities devastated by flooding. Bridges lie on the river beds they once traversed, and property and businesses have been wrecked beyond salvation. The people of Bradcaster in Cornwall will be looking up Country with every sympathy.

Imagine, then, my trepidation as I invited six rugby colleagues up to Southport of the fourth annual Dom Pedro golf tournament. November up North in the wettest November on record, not a good idea! The event is usually held mid-October in Portugal, and the name of the tournament is associated with the hotel we all stay in. I managed to win the individual and the team contest last year and had high hopes of retaining the trophies.

Things did not start off well though. Our hotel, The Prince of Wales, had booked us into double rooms as they had five coach loads of the 'grey pound' posse staying there for 'turkey and tinsel'. Z-beds were provided with the promise of room changes the next day.

We then arrived at Formby golf links as the heavens opened and dumped the aforementioned precipitation on us. On went the waterproofs, jumpers, thermal gloves and beanie hats and off we trudged.

My partner for the week, Adam, and I were playing Gareth and Bill Badger in our first round tussle. Now Bill Badger has been around the rugby club for years, he has played for most of the senior teams and has won kicking cups, golf trophies and man of the match awards consistently throughout his time there. He must be a great all rounder you may think, but no, not really.

In the same way that Scottish football teams might field A. Trialist, or B. Trialist in games to protect those players anonymity, so Bill Badger is a nom d'plume for people who go on tour and don't want to be recognised, or is a trophy winner filler in the years a pot is not played for. And so it came to be that as we were only seven on tour Bill became our eighth man.

On the first day he was represented by my father-in law, Marty, who I invited along as an early 70th birthday present. He showed his gratitude by sinking a thirty foot putt on the 17th to win 2 and 1, humf! The fact the rain cleared after three holes and we played in glorious Winter sunshine was small consolation to me.

On the second day at Formby Ladies, Bill was represented by a Liverpool acquaintance called Stu, who helped Gareth to a comfortable win, and took the day prize himself with 39 points. Saturday was again set fair and for part of the round we were playing in polo shirts it was so mild.

A night out in Liverpool in Alma d'Cuba until 3am did not sit well with the final match of the tour, played on the greens of the Hesketh club. Gareth did hang on to win again, so emulated my feat of last year winning the team and individual titles, on another rain free day.

It was great the lads travelled up to play and that they has a good time, we did agree however, that it would be back to The Algarve next year. Whether Bill is with us may well be influenced by the governments stance on bovine TB in the countryside.

The Tufty Club

I have had a couple of firsts recently. One occurred while we were at 'Camp Pete' I saw my first red squirrel, hopping along the fence of the farm. It is something of a mystery why I have never seen one before, given that my in-laws live very close to the Red Squirrel reserve in Formby near Southport. The reserve there is one of the most famous in the Country but is under severe threat at the moment as the grey squirrel population is starting to infiltrate the reserve. 70 or so reds have been found dead in the last month , as rangers struggle to eradicate the greys.

Local residents are required to report sightings of greys but I suspect as the population changes and houses gain new owners, the messages are not always passed on. I know I am barred by our kids from shooting the ones in our garden, as they are 'cute' . Rather a dead cutey than the eradication of one of the most precious natural species.