Unplayable Lies: A Respite

For the first day since our arrival, I don't three-putt a single green. But the location of futures sins against humanity, reveal themselves.

Theresa has been struggling with a knee issue, minor we still believe, but it's made the trollies a bit of a struggle for her. It's hard work in the wind, that I can affirm.... At both Elie and Lundin, the gang was knackered at the cessation of hostilities. The obvious solution is caddies, which is no problem for Saturday on The Old, but limits our options for Sunday. Theresa suggests another go on The Balcomie, I can't make that work.

So, I suck it up and grab the last mid-morning tee time at Kingsbarns... The place is way overpriced but,as you'll see it's quite a beautiful site, the weather should be great and it's always a fun day of golf, not something one can say about many.

Theresa organizes us for a walk to the windmill, along the Fife Coastal Path. For unexplained reasons, she detours us through the local caravan park, admittedly a higher end version thereof. These folks seem to have their priorities in the proper order:

Once upon the actual coastal path it's a beautiful walk, and we're quickly upon the windmill:

And notice they're collecting those conical bales:

Now, I've been pestering the girls for a couple of days to stop and get a picture of the windmill from the A917, with the conical bales of hay in the foreground, and the Firth in the background. Must do on our way out of town, I make note to self.

I do the best that I can from this angle, and we trod off home:

With a stop for coffee at The Diving Gannet, where Jewelle orders a hot chocolate concoction that features pink marshmallows that perfectly match her outfit:

The girl is good!

Have I shown you the pink house in town?

Oddly, it's in Virgin Square. I have no clue where to go with that, but I'm just reporting the facts.

Cats herded into car, we head towards Anstruther, stopping to seize the opportunity to photograph the windmill and bales of hay... And damn, it's directly into the sun.

We'll have to give it one last go on the way home.

In Anstruther we finally find parking directly across the street from The Wee Chippy, the consensus chippy of choice:

Another lovely fishing village. John was explaining to us the relative wealth of the coastal villages, as water transport was the most efficient means of the pre-industrial era. A band of wealth around the island, but much poorer inland.

We drive north up the coast with the North Sea to our right, and circle a bit before finding parking. I drag the ladies to the old church ruins on the edge of town, to pay our respects.

The cemetery holds the remains of the entire Morris clan, including Tommy's:

We're again directly into the sun. Not a recurring problem in these parts.

I also point out the grave of Alan Robertson, perhaps the most important figure in golf in the era that preceded Old Tom. He was the game's best player, a prominent clubmaker and ball manufacturer, and the man who gave Old Tom Morris his start. You do need to read Tommy's Honour, if you haven't already...

We've had our Luvean's, but no Janetta's.... we head back later, and the line is out the door.

We wait.

Street Musicians in St Andrews turn out to be a rocking blues band:

Though the harp player was a little scary:

We duck into one cute shop and find something I desperately want.... It's just a tad impractical:

I've always loved the red phone boxes, especially in remote locales. Just couldn't figure out how to get the wine rack home....

Got to watch a few groups finish.... Virtually every one taking three to get down from on or near the green.

That Valley of Sin is a real thing:

One guy had it roll back into the valley. Made a great putt to 3-4 feet, but couldn't get that to go...

I had a visceral reaction to the merchandising of the 18th green surrounds... Oh, it's long been commercial, but they do seem to be raising the stupidity. We saw in 2015 that the Old Tom Morris Golf Shop next to the 18th green had been renamed The Open Shop....

This Open thing they run is big and important, but it only comes to the Old Course every now and again. There's plenty of opportunity to hawk Open swag, and we've no issue with you putting up Open signs. But you took down Old Tom Morris, at the very shop where he worked, as he pushed golf into the modern era. The Open is your greatest event, and that event was the result of the efforts of Tom Morris, at the very spot where it happened. It pains me horribly that those running our game don't see the eternal value in that. Those at the R&A were handed that birthright, and took it down in the interest of a little more Open signage.

The adjoining Old Course Shop has some howlers as well. Of course there's an Old Course line of clothing and accessories, why share all that margin with Peter Millar. But this seems a stretch:

OK, everyone's got the photo...It's a sweet moment in the round, I just didn't see it as a tent poll for a fashion line.

But what to make of this:

Take home a memento of the hole that ruined your scorecard. I'm pretty sure, though, that no fashion collection should have the word "hole" in it's name... And road isn't much better.

Up next, Hell Bunker Edibles.... Train Wreck Snow-Globes.

Also funny is that I don't own a single item of Old Course swag. I'm not opposed to a little swag, I indulge myself at places I enjoy and treasure, though limits must be applied. But I have no interest, despite my reverence for the course and the local golf institutions. It just feels especially crass here, as this place really is too serious and special for that nonsense and self-promotion. Just one guy's reactions...

More ruins...this a Protestant church whose pastor was burned at the stake....