Balls
Dunstan beach
I ventured into England again this week, this time for a camper van meet-up with family in Northumberland. We always give a little "boo" as we cross the border heading south, then cheer on the way back into Scotland. Nothing too partisan - I just love my home.
The wide, arable landscape of England's east coast provides such a stark contrast to damp, mountainous Argyll. It's sunnier down here. There are many people.
Photography in the height of summer isn't easy, particularly for a dormouse like me, and especially when the coast is a decent hike from the campsite. Thomas Heaton happened to be staying a few miles further up the coast at the same time, and judging by his latest video, it seems he was facing similar challenges.
Following some evening rain, far too much booze and rather too many snacks, we managed to have some hung-over fun in the sun. A seven-mile trudge with my camera bag yielded a few pleasant shots, so I couldn't complain, even if my knees did.
The broad sandy beach below Dunstanburgh Castle is fringed by a beautifully maintained links golf course. Visitors wandering along the beach or following the King Charles III England Coast Path have to cross the fairways at several points. I guess it must be frustrating for the pastel-clad golfers to have to wait to hit their little balls, but they do get a bit uppity, don’t they?
Over the years, and especially in my various charity roles, I’ve interacted with people from all walks of life. From muddy contractors to tweedy toffs. Nearly all are gentle, kind, and lovely to be around. But every now and then I encounter a particular type that golf just seems to attract. Not golfers generally, but the competitive, male-dominated, back-slappers that always left me feeling like a square peg. In my working life I often had to endure sales conferences, where the whooping, drunken, “winners”, celebrated their bonuses in all their tasteless glory.
Yes, I’m showing my bias, and I do realise that salespeople are often the bedrock of most company’s success, but I’ll never swing a golf club as a result.
I'd much rather spend the day chasing the light than little white balls.
