The best thing about Canberra is the air. Now, now – none of your cheek. Not the stuff out of the buffoons we send to the Capital to look after our interests, the gibbering nincompoops whose bluster could power so many of Canberra’s muchphotographed hot-air balloons.
No. Rather, we’re talking the sweet, pure, high-country air where Canberra sits, incongruously, atop the Great Dividing Range, the plateau lands at the northern edge of the Australian Alps. Where the weather might be described as ‘crisp’, or, if a southerly sweeps in from snow-capped Brindabellas, ‘Sweet Jesus! It’s Baltic! Lock up the animals!’
For golf, though, the weather is pure. Even when minus temperatures begat a thick morning frost, it means a clear, sunny, still day. Cold, sure. But, at any time, golfers…