My name is Mike and I’ve wrestled the computer away from Steve. Be ye warned… it won’t be pretty. I think there is a hole in my bottle of scotch. What else could explain the empty bottle next to me.

The pheasant was going to be a problem. There was no way around it… the damn things are everywhere.  This croaking rooster not only occupied the driving range at Royal Liverpool but also heckled us from the first tee at Birkdale.   Nonetheless, the only issue for me concerned the wind.  It had to be blowing at 40-50mph as we teed off on the first hole at Liverpool and continued for the rest of the day. Thankfully by Birkdale they had calmed into the mid-20’s. There is just no way to overcome the wind.  It beats you down.  As we passed Steve on the 6th hole he asked if we had any balls. What an opening for a great comeback and yet due to the winds I was speechless.  The wind buffets you constantly. It is like trying to swing a club while Dave Yanagamachi is shaking you by the shoulders.

After our round at Royal Birkdale, we made some new friends. One of these new best friends was a local business owner who was terminally handsome – the result of course was that Rose and Susan were smitten; even before the fellow invited them for a drink at a local pub. And as their new friends left the clubhouse, each of the girls were imparted with a kiss on each cheek.  I told Rose to pull up her pants as you’re embarrassing me!

Now onto the video

http://static.animoto.com/swf/w.swf?w=swf/vp1&e=1284812729&f=Ql1Dml4qxsueYXG9O3ENEA&d=112&m=a&r=w&i=m&options=

 

 

 

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