ST ANDREWS, SCOTLAND | Talk about replacing your divots.
At first light last Tuesday morning, six men and a mechanical digger arrived at the Old Course to undo the damage done to the 700-year-old Swilcan Bridge by the addition of what looked uncommonly like a couple of concrete helipads. The shiny stone slabs had been carted off and, by 10:30, the area on the 18th hole was well on the way to being restored to its original state.
All of which was just as well. In spreading news of the mischief being visited on their beloved bridge – listed by Historic Environment Scotland as a Category B building – the St Andrews townsfolk had brought it to the attention of Fife Council. And, in no time at all, questions were being asked as to whether or not the St Andrews Links Trust, which manages the grounds at the “home of golf,” had applied for planning permission.
Seemingly not.
Though Historic Environment Scotland’s website makes plain that it is “a criminal offence to demolish, alter materially or extend a listed building without listed building consent,” there was no indication of anyone having made such an application. That same body said that it had looked at the planning portals and seen nothing.
The Links Trust, by then, was admitting the error of its ways and that, in itself, was good enough for those in Fife Council’s planning department. “Given that works had already been undertaken to restore the site to its former appearance, no further action was required,” a council spokesperson said.
At 11 a.m. Tuesday, the holidaying civil engineer with whom I fell into step on the walk to the St Andrews Links clubhouse was not inclined to believe my story of disappearing helipads.
“But they were there last night,” he said in protest. “I had a good look at them myself when I was playing the Old Course and, to be frank, I thought they were pretty awful. I have to say that if any of my men had been involved in the laying of those slabs, I wouldn’t have waited till 7 in the morning to get shot of them.”
Though he felt that not enough thought had gone into the project, could the reverse have applied? After years of battling with the worn and sometimes muddy paths fore and aft of the bridge, the greenkeeping team had used various synthetic surfaces with limited success before giving the patio-type idea a try. With that an obvious flop, they already had accepted that it was back to the business of having to re-turf the area every couple of months.
Hardly the worst news in the world, you would have thought. The All England Club, after all, does not care about its baselines becoming more and more worn over the Wimbledon fortnight and, just as a grass court is meant to look as it does, so a true links always will feature the odd muddy/grassy path.
Nick Faldo, a three-time Open champion who won the Claret Jug in 1990 at St Andrews, seemed to echo those feelings: “If you’ve travelled halfway around the world for your bucket list round at St Andrews, would you rather leave with a bit of historic dirt on your shoes or a few cement mix scraps?” he asked on Twitter.
The R&A is the sole owner of three subsidiary companies in R&A Rules Limited, R&A Championships Limited, and R&A Group Services Limited. Yet the governing body for the game beyond the U.S. and Mexico does not own the Links Trust, and many among the R&A members were at pains to stress as much last week. Not that there were too many of them around during my visit.
With the clubhouse closed for renovation work, I half wondered whether the missing members were cowering in the 3.5-meter (about 11½ feet) pit which is due to become part of their new cloakroom facilities. With some temporary fencing having been blown over or simply removed, I took a closer look.
As it turned out, there were no members – past or present – down in the depths. However, one of the managers of Robertson, the R&A builders, said that their excavations had nonetheless revealed something of interest. They had not struck oil, but they had found enough top-quality and presumably plastic-free sand to fill any number of bunkers.
...arguably the worst thing about the construction ... Namely, its colour. That old Scottish word “peely-wally” – it is mostly used in connection with children looking a tad pale and trying to get out of going to school – is probably as good as any.
One R&A member who did not seem to know or care who was responsible for the bridge fiasco had studied the Swilcan Bridge on Monday and Tuesday and come to the conclusion that the ongoing drama was well over the top. “Instead of undoing what they’d done, they should have weathered the storm,” he said. “It wouldn’t have taken too long for the new slabs to merge with the old and people weren’t noticing them.”
He, in fact, had captured arguably the worst thing about the construction. Namely, its colour. That old Scottish word “peely-wally” – it is mostly used in connection with children looking a tad pale and trying to get out of going to school – is probably as good as any.
After lunch, I happened upon a man from Carnoustie, who, on being updated with the R&A man’s verdict, said that whoever was involved in the actual laying of the stones should have insisted on working with a second-hand selection which had enjoyed a few hundred years on some cobbled street.
My next stop was to ask an interested party of road workers whether any of them had done a moonlighting job on the bridge. “Nothing to do with us, mate,” said one, chuckling. That established, I rang ’round a series of landscape designers in the area who said much the same.
Yet there was one individual – from J.D. Minto’s in Dundee – who was nothing if not helpful. He said that if the Links Trust were to get in touch with his company, he could give them a few ideas. Fan-shaped paths and smaller ones were among them.
Finally, it was time to address the story from a woman’s point of view and, as luck would have it, there were three female golfers on their way back to their cars. As innocuously as I could, I asked whether the bridge shenanigans had really been the talk of the town or was that something of an exaggeration.
Two of them coloured slightly and hurried on their way, leaving a more forthcoming soul to deal with the situation.
This one summed up the Links Trust’s blunders in no-nonsense fashion: “It was a real mess and a potty idea.”
Then she put me right on the business of the extent to which it had been the talk of the town. Sounding more than a tad exasperated, she explained: “It’s not just the talk of the town. It’s the talk of the world.”
E-MAIL LEWINE
Top: After worldwide outcry, the St Andrews Links Trust removed stonework it deemed "unable to create a look which is in keeping with its iconic setting."
james bunch, GGP