The Old Makes Me Feel Young

Hostilities resumed at zero-nine-thirty this morning on the Old Links at Ballyliffin Golf Club.  The links are not actually all that old, but they were built virtually by hand by the members of the club and are a delight.  They are also far more manageable than the Glashedy Links, a members course if you will.

First came a grand reunion in the golf shop, where we saw Mary the Starter, Gareth the Golf Professional and John Farren, the club's General Manger and splicer of computer cables,  That last is a reference to our last visit, when John saved my blogging bacon.

In the simple act of purchasing bottle water for the round, we had our first scare, having been unaware that the dreaded Mr. Trump had purchase Ballyliffin.  Who else puts their name on their water?

But alas, all was the same as it ever was.  By the time we found our opening drives we were enjoying the marvelously rumpled fairways of the Old Links, which look as much like an unmade bed as anything.

You'll not be hitting from a level lie much today, son!  Deal with it.

We of course also availed ourselves of the mandatory photo of Theresa on the third tee, with Glashedy Rock over her shoulder:

Theresa wasn't her automatic self this morning, spraying the ball more than is typical.  She got herself into quite the spot of bother on the Par-3 fifth, so forgive the bad photo:

On the Par-3 seventh, I got an extremely good bounce of a mound near the green surface, the funny thing being that I had used that very mound for this amateurish links video in 2012:

For once I managed to hold a lead, though a ninth hole par by m'lady reminded me that she's in no way a spent force.  I stuffed a wedge on No. 11 for a birdie, but after that a couple of lost balls enabled Madam to take a lead.  I should not that the Old Links is far more forgiving than it's newer sibling, and one has a good chance of finding crooked shots there.  I found more than mu share as I rarely found a fairway off the tee, regardless of how conservative the choice of weapon.

Madam never allows an opportunity to commune with the waters pass.

This is the other obligatory photo from the Old, the arty shot with wisps of grass from the 16th tee.

It took a snake of a birdie putt on No. 17 and a good up-and=in for par on the last to hold her at bay. reducing her lead to a slim point at 8-7.

Tomorrow we tackle the very difficult Glashedy, where I would give the Bride the advantage based upon her greater propensity to keep the ball on the field of play.  We've instituted a new local rule, declaring balls lost in the evil maram to be as in a lateral hazard, a one stroke penalty with a drop in the abandoned search area.  No doubt our bags, who am I kidding MY bag, will be lighter by the end of the day.

Then it's off to Northern Ireland, specifically Portstewart and the magical Dunluce Links of Royal Portrush.