Brilliant blue skies in the kingdom - and a pause to remember Bobby Heaney

Posted by Jamie on 12 November 2010 | 3 Comments | Tags: Fife, Scotland, Burntisland, Old Tom Morris, Willie Park, James Braid

Iâ??m tasked with capturing in a few paragraphs a very special 36 hours indeed.  Special for me, anyway.  On the Saturday evening before our Monday morning flight to Dubai we found ourselves once more in the company of very dear family friends, The Lows.  Their cottage perched up on Dunearn Hill above Burntisland is my second home; the site of many a fond childhood memory.  Jaded and in need of a quiet night, there could have been no better place to spend the evening.  Jock had been busy in the kitchen de-stressing (rustling up a hearty soup or two over the AGA is his favoured mode of relaxation).  Auntie Phil had stoked up a roaring fire in the pot belly stove.  And Young Rod (ages with Conor) was back in town.  The stars â?? you wonâ??t be surprised to hear me say â?? were aligned.

The day had brought a wealth of riches: my Auntie Gilâ??s famous bacon rolls, a stroll under piercing blue skies through the Edinburgh Botanic Gardens, a smashing 9 hole at Musselburgh Old Links with none other than Our Favourite Vet And Deviant Alfie Melville, and a brief catch up with old childhood pal Jurgen on Palmerston Place over a pint and an(other) All Blacks victory.  But after 4 months of exhausting exploration of these British Isles, it was time for the music to stop; time to take stock of the situation and inhale a deep breath before the Middle Eastern Leg.  Soup and mince and tatties in that familiar farmhouse kitchen were just what the doctor ordered.  Gold star Jock.

Itâ??s a miracle my eyes opened in the morning.  Not because itâ??d been a hard night â?? quite the contrary â?? but because they were frozen shut by a thick veneer of frost.  When at The Lows I sleep in Hamishâ??s room.  Hamish used to have one of the upstairs bedrooms (above the AGA) but has now been relegated to the Far Corner of the cottage (likely on justified grounds of protracted misbehaviour).  Which means Iâ??ve been relegated to the very same Far Corner.  Where not a hint of warmth can be found or even dreamt of.  Under two duvets and a woolen blanket I still felt like Captain Scott in his final days.  Ahhhh, Scotland in November...

Like bees to a honey pot we congregated around the AGA and brewed a pot of tea.  And squinted as the winter rays penetrated the kitchen window with frightening success.  It was a stunner outside for the second day running.  I wish Iâ??d taken a photo of the view from The Lowsâ?? kitchen window, because it would like a firm blow under the rib cage take your breath away.  Perhaps Iâ??ll just keep it to myself for now.

Burntisland Golf House Club sits on a ledge down below Dunearn, to the east of the town.  As a youngster Iâ??d heard it was a bonnie walk, but never ventured there to see for myself.  On a quite brilliant Sunday morning here was the perfect opportunity to see what all the fuss was about.  Eric the enthusiastic pro with a fantastic Fife accent was in fine form and got us on our way.  He was very apologetic about the sludge created on the lower lying holes by heavy overnight rain, but seeing the camera around my neck told us weâ??d be getting some good snaps from the plateau holes up above.  Yâ??er man wasnâ??t wrong.  Aye, The Kingdom was looking A Billion Dollars.  You wonâ??t often hear me admit to this, but in the moment I was proud to be a Fifer!

Rather than describe the course to you Iâ??ll let the pictures do the talking.  Suffice to say Burntisland on a sunny day is a delightful walk, each shot being but a short interruption between wondrous gazing across The Firth of Forth.  Itâ??s the 10th oldest golf course in the world too, by the way.  And a few fellas by the name of Old Tom Morris, Willie Park Jnr, and James Braid have had their hand in the layout.  Not bad pedigree then... 

Now, there was still much car cleaning and packing to do on Flight Eve.  But Iâ??d received instructions earlier in the morning from New Zealand that had to be seen through.  Dadâ??s great friend Bobby Heaney passed away a year ago to the day and his widow (an absolute character, Auntie Janey) was putting on a lunch for 40 odd friends at her farmhouse up in Perthshire â?? to celebrate the life of the great man.  (Dad â?? who was Bobbyâ??s Best Man â?? flew back from NZ last year only to catch him an hour before he passed away).  Conor and I were asked (and were only too happy) to make a surprise appearance at Janeyâ??s, to drop off some flowers and a note from dad.  Good bonding time for The Patton Brothers in my final few hours on Scottish soil too.

The episode was not without its nervous moments.  Given our instructions had only been received first thing on a Sunday morning, our choice of florists was somewhat limited.  Sainsburyâ??s at Kinross looked like itâ??d be our only option, but they only had carnations and other plastic looking weeds, so things werenâ??t looking good.  No flowers would be better than crap flowers.  Fate intervened though.  We gunned it down Kinross High Street and spotted a van being unloaded outside the only florist.  The shop was closed but the proprietor was dropping some stuff off.  We seized the moment; explained the situation; and asked in the politest way imaginable whether we might be able to trouble yâ??er man for some proper flowers.  God Bless Him he obliged.  And once more we were on track.

What followed was a very moving couple of hours at Janeyâ??s, amongst the company of mum and dadâ??s old friends (most notably Digger & Gillian Davey).  These names wonâ??t mean anything to you lot of course, but really Iâ??m writing this blog for mum & dad â?? who have been so supportive this year â?? so they can relive the afternoon that Conor and I were so lucky to be part of.  Everyone was in fine form and at the end of a magnificent lunch we raised our glasses to Bobby, one of lifeâ??s special people.  This blog is dedicated to his memory.  

Time got away on us not surprisingly.  Trying to leave one of Janeyâ??s parties is like trying to run through quick sand.  But I had to pack my things and to mentally prepare for the manic 24 hours that was to follow.  And, of course, spend some more quality time with The Lows and The Duncans (whose Tank weâ??ve had the privilege of borrowing for the past 4 months).  On that note, we owe a huge debt of gratitude to Graeme and Trina â?? and Iâ??d like to say a huge thank you for their generosity in entrusting the car to us unruly hooligans.  Iâ??ll forever have happy memories of driving that sky blue Merc around these ancient Isles throughout Q3 of puregolf2010.

JP