There is a common denominator linking everything to do with my golf and related statistics.  It's called the putter... although I've been calling it a few different names recently.

I even resorted to the belly putter last Sunday, but that particular item was last seen circling the Surrey air searching for a helipad.   It will not be taking flight again.

There's not a lot more that I can do because my game in general is fairly sharp.  I've just got to keep at it and hope that eventually the ball starts to find the cup instead of skirting it.  It's very frustrating, but that's golf for you.

The weather across the Irish Sea was desperate, but I played nicely at the 3 Irish Open and recorded one of my best finishes for a while.    It could have been even better at Wentworth, but I needed too many putts.

All those woes were put to one side afterwards when I went down to The Test for some serious fishing and a good time was had by all.

My father Godfrey will be hoping for a different kind of catch this coming weekend because he is Wembley bound to watch his beloved Everton in the FA Cup Final.   He doesn't need me to remind him (but I will) that even if they win, they will still remain far behind Liverpool in the trophy stakes.

Finally, I would just like to add my name to those who are wishing Amy Mickelson a speedy recovery from her breast cancer illness problems.   I have spoken to Phil at length about a subject which has touched me to a great extent in the past and I know he is doing everything he can to support and help.