October, in places like Scotland and Rory McIlroy’s homeland of Northern Ireland, has been pretty wet. Pulling open the curtains each morning and being greeted by a wearisome, grey ceiling of overwhelming misery has been a bit like waking up in some dank Dickensian prison. It’s been so damp, even the clouds that are throwing down relentless torrents have started to rust at the edges. In fact, the all-around moistness is at such a level, this column just about had to be etched into papier mache.
We could do with a little bit of respite to lift the morale, couldn’t we? Thankfully, the world of golf can easily transport us to some distant land where the sky is blue and the sun is shining.
