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A short tribute to John Peter

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I was lucky enough to meet John and Jimmy a few years before COVID and what a lucky break that was. It set the tone for the trip. Great craic, living life to the full and it would get better. As the Camino Guide I had to walk them along to one of my favourite places. I knew they did a nice Gin in a rosebowl of a glass. John duly ordered one and didn't understand when the wait said when, he meant tell me when to stop pouring the gin. After removing a lump of ice, he then put the tonic in. We all know drink's bad for us, but judging by the smile on his face at that moment, it tasted pretty good to John.  On later walks, in the Rioja moments, we would tell that story and bring back the joyful memories. We did it for years. It immediately diffused any situation. That would be the last night for that camino for the two boys from Glenvarloch. At that stage they'd been friends for over 60 years. By last week it was over 70 years.  That's a great friendship and I was grateful...
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The Masters meander - the results are in

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A glimpse through time shows this tournament is won by the person with the lowest score, and that usually starts on day 1, gets cemented on day 2 and even when there looks a runaway leader on day 3 it's only the quiet stoic assassin who has held onto the coat tails since day one. Trust me it's been like this for years now. 30 of them. When Tiger last won, 2019,  it was because Molinari, the open champ and my #1 golfer chunked a chip. He could feel the weight of history and Tiger could too. Some people are born to the masters and Patrick Reed is one. His record is phenomenal and when he took Bob MacIntyre under his wing it rubbed off on Bob who has a pretty good record for being such a novice at Augusta. Schwartzel closed with 4 birdies to move clear and prove the lurkers wise. Norman famously bottled it against Faldo, while Spieth has chucked it too and that resulted in the quiet assassin Danny Willett (2016) stepping up. I like Danny for a top 20 but no...
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The Embleton few

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Paul, saviour of the universe drove us down and back on just one charge. A huge round of applause as driving to this place is an absolute godsend and although it curtails his wednesday night, we were in bed by 8.22pm, it certainly didn't derail the day's walk.  That dubious pleasure was down to the sobriety and infirmity of the tooth and tonsil'less wonder Fat Al.   Paul's skills in driving were matched in the pool room and the race to 10 pints where he just didn't have an equal. His peer group were racing slowly towards one pint on their arrival, or in Al's case a coffee, while Paul rose in search of number 3.  You just cant hide the excitement of a man escaping responsibility and starting to freewheel. There are just so many cookies in this cookie jar that he was spoilt for choice.   First we had to checking in and with only 5 rooms, sadly our host had got it wrong. THey'd given us a room without bunk beds. Much chagrin at the thought of Paul sleeping wit...
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