Tag Archives: Royal Birkdale
Slacks, golf – and George
When, in 2004, we moved up north to Liverpool, we bought a house in complete ignorance of the district’s main attraction: ten minutes’ walk from our front door was a long, sandy beach. I knew the land came to an … Continue reading
Golf. Just when I’d begun to …
I won’t say accept it, that would be silly – what difference would that make to anything (or anyone)? Tolerate it, perhaps? No, it was a smidge more positive than that – but anyway. A few days ago I opened … Continue reading
Posted in Britain now & then, Lancashire & the golf coast
Tagged bike rides, flowers, golf, Harrods, IRA, London, rag and bone man, Royal Birkdale, sea, Southport, Women's Open
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How my prejudices are suffering a setback, plus, probing some great (an exaggeration) unknowns
It’s discombobulating living here. It’s not just the things I don’t know, it’s the things I didn’t know I don’t know. First, there’s the golf. I don’t like golf on principle. Bunch of men getting together and perpetuating their networks … Continue reading
MEMOIRS OF A HUSK 