YOU don’t get much for your money just now. The other day, for instance, I flung £30 worth of unleaded into the car at the petrol station and by the time I’d made the tiny journey to that bit of the forecourt where you blow up your tyres, I had to return to the pump to fill the bloomin’ thing up again.
Goodness knows how much it’s going to cost me to drive from Glasgow to East Lothian for this week’s Genesis Scottish Open in an auld jalopy that rattles, creaks and clatters like the marching skeleton army in Jason and the Argonauts.
