A Mystery of the Sport called Golf

Last weekend we spent with a work related purpose in St Andrews where students of one of the oldest universities in Britain mix with golfers who come especially to play on one of the most prestigeous golf courses in the country.

Luckily none of us is into golf so these acres of plain green grass interested us only from a photographer's point of view (Simon waited for ages so that someone came into the compositionally right end of the course so that he could take a picture). And even that turned out to be dangerous as when we were walking down The Scores, a street situated just past the golfcourse by the sea, something whizzed past my left ear and landed on the tarmac next to me. I presume you have guessed already what it was! So I picked up the golf ball, much to Simon's dissaprovement (apparently one is not supposed to do that - a golfer is supposed to whack it back into the course). So I left it where it landed, just behind a street bollard and picked it up on our way back, 20 minutes later it was still there!

What a narrow escape I've had - these balls are quite heavy and extremely hard so being hit with one at high speed might create a serious damage. Who would have thought that golf is such a dangerous sport. Especially when one is a wife...