So this week I have been staring longingly at pictures of the Mourne Mountains. The what I hear you ask? Yes, you did indeed hear correctly…..the Mourne Mountains. Why? Well because they will form the backdrop to my maiden trip to Northern Ireland next week for the Irish Open Golf at Royal County Down Golf Club. To say I am overexcited about following the world’s finest around this beautiful links course is something of an understatement. I shall be stalking Rory and Rickie Fowler et al from inside the ropes as I resume my golf commentating career with the smell of the sea wafting in my nostrils and a disaster with a gorse bush mere moments away.
It takes me right back to the Ryder Cup last autumn where I made my first foray into the world of on-course radio commentary. It was an absolute joy to be at Gleneagles which is undoubtedly one of the most stunning places I’ve ever visited. Notwithstanding the fact that our accommodation was a Snoozebox, (who said TV and radio was glamorous?), it was a week of sheer joy to be marching the fairways of one of Scotland’s finest courses in the company of the best golfers from both sides of the pond.
My biggest challenge was not to fall into a bunker or accidentally kick or step on Phil Mickelson’s of indeed anyone’s ball. Trust me when they are playing four ball golf it is a distinct possibility that you will just forget where the drives have landed, which makes it terrifyingly easy to literally stumble upon a ball. Happily I managed not to do that which was a bonus and I managed to whisper at the right times and not shout at the wrong times. I walked at least 10 miles each day I was there and returned home with the warm glow of a woman who had basked in the golden rays of that rare Scottish gift – a warm, dry autumn week.
Plus the fact Europe duly obliged and won fairly comfortably which was jolly decent of them. I was fortunate enough to follow Justin Rose, Patrick Reed, Ian Poulter, Bubba Watson, Jordan Spieth to name but a few and I don’t mind admitting I developed a faint crush on Henrik Stenson. All in a week’s work. I fear the weather gods may not be so kind to me next week which is fine and dandy. Have wet weather trousers will travel is my sporting motto.
If you’re planning to come along to cheer on young Mr McIlroy, do say hello, especially if you see me trudging the fairway armed with a microphone, a backpack, the radio kit (again glamour all the way) and a smile. I promise to look effortlessly windswept and sun-burnt in one fell swoop and you’ll be able to hear my dulcet tones on the on-course radio, the event website or indeed local radio. Joy. Unbounded. Until then my friends….Fore……