Tales of Warkworth Part One
Once again, word of mouth opens a gate I’d have otherwise walked past. A free morning on this winter golfing pilgrimage, towards the shore that peers out at the North Sea and Holy Island; a chance to retreat into golf, and writing, and to meet fresh horizons with that energy that always accompanies “the new”.
I ask a few people for ideas for this vacant slot, and Warkworth is one of a few in contention. I call, eager to speak in person, and the conversation that follows tells me that this is the sort of place I should be seeing. For the person on the other end of the line is friendly, funny, welcoming.
… from Warkworth GC
I ask a few people for ideas for this vacant slot, and Warkworth is one of a few in contention. I call, eager to speak in person, and the conversation that follows tells me that this is the sort of place I should be seeing. For the person on the other end of the line is friendly, funny, welcoming.
And it is a chance to connect with another soul touched by golf, whose writing on these same themes beguiles me. R’s path to his golfing prose is different from mine, but we have each arrived in a similar place – the game an avenue for a deeper exploration of who we are; the lives we’ve led. Before we meet, we’ve spoken a little on the phone, and exchanged a few messages, but nothing can compare with the freedom golf provides for this sort of relaxed conversation.
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