I love golfing although this summer I didn't get to do much of it but that's another story. This week made up for all that missed golfing when the CP Women's Open came to town. Added bonus, Canadian, Brooke Henderson, is among the favourites to win.
The event might be close to home, but getting there wasn't straight forward. No, spectators can't park at the golf course. Instead there are parking lots set up where you drive to and then hop on a school bus to take you to the rest of the way.
Our Canadian-hope-to-win, Brooke Henderson, was holding one of the leading positions - not first but close enough. On Friday, it was still early days with two more days left in the tournament. She had some great shots and seemed not to notice the crowd that watch every shot as intently as if it were her last. It's amazing the discipline these golfers have. They're not distracted by the crowd of spectators, nor by the cameraman following them. It's them and that little white ball and nothing else matters. A lesson in discipline, for sure.
Note to writer - keyboard and paper is all that matters. Yet there are no crowds and still I can be so easily distracted.
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| Beer samples from a pseudo golf bag out of this redone truck. |
So, great day - glad we went. It was an experience to be on the course, actually touching the rope that kept us off the fairway, being the one doing the clapping instead of some fan on television. My fingers are crossed that Brooke will pull off a win. There's a lot of Canadians cheering her on.
Hours later and we're back on the school bus. This time our volunteer driver is looking not at all like one might expect of a bus driver. She's wearing a cheery sundress, a brilliant smile and a pony tail - and greets us all as we enter the bus that is rocking with music that I'm not unfamiliar with - I've heard it in another era. DH looks at me as the school bus lurches into motion, smiles and says "Rather appropriate. The last time we heard this we were riding one one of these to school."
Hours later and we're back on the school bus. This time our volunteer driver is looking not at all like one might expect of a bus driver. She's wearing a cheery sundress, a brilliant smile and a pony tail - and greets us all as we enter the bus that is rocking with music that I'm not unfamiliar with - I've heard it in another era. DH looks at me as the school bus lurches into motion, smiles and says "Rather appropriate. The last time we heard this we were riding one one of these to school."
Past meets present yet again.
Ryshia
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