Golf o'clock

Today's contribution of stuff and nonsense is brought to you early since I've some serious golf watching to do. Don't tell mother but it's 2.30am and I'm interrupting my fourteen day stay in Florida to devote four days solid watching the British Open on telly. In my defence the five hour time lag means the coverage will finish by 2pm local time so that leaves time for a run and a dip before the highlights come on later.

I've been here for a week now so my mind turns to gifts and souvenirs to take back to Blighty. It'll be standard fare I expect; Hershey's chocolate, NYC baseball caps, Stars & Stripes themed tat of all varieties, I'm so predictable. I might have left it too late to send postcards, always a bit of a faux pas to arrive home ahead of your postcards but I look set fair to achieve that distinction yet again. My tan is beginning to take shape, that's to say my face and neck are brown, the rest of me remains whiter than the driven snow. The last timer a Russon got a tanning it was a 7&6 defeat at Stonehaven Golf Club in the 80s and no I'm not naming the chap who delivered it, his ego's already the size of Dundee. 

In a somewhat surreal scene, the family Labrador (Charlie) is chasing a frog around the dimly lit backyard. It's had the better of him for a good ten minutes now so he might as well come back inside to watch the golf with me. Since it's only 2.30am I'm trying not to wake the children but Chris's TV only has two settings; loud and deafening, praps I'll put it on mute instead. The tea in America is undrinkable and there's no milk left for my coffee so I'm refreshment free at present, not a great start to the day but I shouldn't be starting it at 2.30am anyhow I s'pose.

Tonight I'm dragging Chris out on a 5k run, see this link for confirmation as to why he's agreed to it. I've been running every day since I arrived here so fully expect to wipe the floor with him unless he borrows Coralea's scooter. This holiday has been great for me, taught me plenty about myself if that doesn't sound too anal. It does sound too anal but I don't know how else to put it. I'll be disappointed to leave Florida when the day comes (July 27th in case any readers want to pick me up from Aberdeen airport 😬) but I'm gonna be raring to go when I get back. And on that bombshell I'll return to the golf, I don't want to waste any of the forthcoming ten hours coverage. Over and out from me, Charlie and an exhausted frog still hopping around the backyard for dear life.