I live in Scotland. There are a lot of golf courses here.
I’m not telling you anything new about the golf courses. This has always been known.
Scotland is famous for golf. It’s like telling you there is sand in the desert. I’ve passed by many courses but until recently I’d never stepped on one. Then, as Covid ripped and we all looked around for places to walk, like Caesar I crossed the Rubicon. And what a world lay rolling in front of me to be conquered. Such walks, such tended thickets, such panoramic views to the Campsie Fells and round beyond Ben Lomond and south-west on to Arran.
Glorious late spring weather helped, of course. But, when the crowds thinned out and as uncertainty raged, these became places of refuge and great calm.
Just over a week ago, this ended. First Minister Nicola Sturgeon announced she was easing lockdown restrictions, sometime after Westminster already had. Among the relaxation elements was a reopening of the golf courses.
While it was great that a weight was being lifted and there was a sense of being able to look ahead and up, there was also a curious, lingering sensation. Lockdown has been cripplingly hard for a huge number of people. Things remain hard for those whose health is most in danger. Some folk are still reluctant to go too far and take many risks. This is understandable.