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St. Andrews


This is little more than a “stick a pin in the map” entry. One for the travelogue, lacking in reflective thought, and very far from the original intent of these pages. Just a quick hop to St. Andrews to take in a round of golf.

Am I the world’s worst golfer? A strong case could be made for that, yes.

Does that matter? Not. One. Bit.

Two major shout outs:

First to my boy, Mews. He hooked us up with first-class round trip airfare for this quick jaunt to the Royal and Ancient Golf Club. I don’t mean business-class-masquerading-as-first-class. I mean fully-laid-out pod with all the amenities first class. How he procured that is a long story that is better told in person.

The second is for my man, Iwan. He put us up in London and showed us a night on the town that may have permanently altered Mew’s life. In a good way.

Stories come later. For now, let’s just appreciate the scenery.

View of the Old Course looking out from the 18th green.

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