With the 2010 Ryder Cup Competition having started today in Newport, Wales (don't say this blog isn't topical, though I think it's the only time I've referred to golf, as I'm just not interested in it!) - I wonder if anyone can tell me how this seemingly modest verse of poetry is related to my next post on the Cornish Coast Path?
How straight it flew, how long it flew,
It clear'd the rutty track
And soaring, disappeared from view
Beyond the bunker's back -
A glorious, sailing, bounding drive
That made me glad I was alive.
All the clues are there!
5 comments:
I was totally stumped. Then I was shocked by the thought that it be that all your beautiful, spiritually uplifting and enriching solitary walks far and wide really come down to searches for errant golf balls. Whatever. After all if it gets you outdoors and feeing glad to feel alive, why not?
But no, I could not let it rest, so I did some rudimentary (elementary my dear Walker) cyber sleuthing. Am I correct in assuming that your next post will feature a stone spire that was once home to a saintly hermit and has literally known the shifting sands of time?
I don't like golf either, but for some reason 'Seaside Golf' by John Betjeman is stored away in the memory banks - about playing at St Enodoc Golf Club.
Andy
Well done to both of you. Between you, you're almost there. But not quite! Concentrate on the churchyard.
Hmm, I'm getting stumped now.
Betjeman's grave? The Church covered in sand? Or did you go further to the Jesus Well?
Yes, Andy, all I really wanted someone to say was that Betjeman's grave is in St Enodoc's churchyard.
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