Editor’s note: I normally write about Carnoustie, golf strategy and the remarkable people who have shaped this place over the last 180 years. Today is different. Four years ago my life changed forever. This is the story of why Carnoustie means so much more to me than just a place to work.
Today is a big day in The Carnoustie Caddie household.
Four years ago today, my three children came to live with me full time.
Their mother was dealing with some issues and wasn’t capable of looking after them. It was eight months after we’d separated. At the time I was staying in a friend’s spare room, which obviously wasn’t practical for three children, so we moved into temporary homeless accommodation in Arbroath, a few miles up the road from Carnoustie.
We had almost nothing.
A car. The clothes on our backs. A few gadgets.
That was it.
The children were fifteen, thirteen and eleven.
It was a strange time. It felt like the world was closing in around us.
My kids are everything to me. They’re the reason I get up in the morning. The reason I try to live a good life and set the best example I can of what a father should be. A responsible adult who shows up when he’s needed.
And they needed me more than ever.
The unit was tough, especially through the winter. It had electric storage heaters that cost a fortune to run, so we heated one room – the living room. There was only an immersion heater for hot water, and I had to persuade the council to install an electric shower. Because we couldn’t afford to keep the place warm enough, black mould spread across the ceilings.
It wasn’t really big enough for the four of us either. My son ended up sleeping on two single mattresses in the cupboard under the stairs.
Lesley nicknamed him Harry Potter.
It was a rough area, so the kids rarely left the house while we lived there. And the hardest part was not knowing how long we’d be there. Getting a council house in Carnoustie isn’t easy, and there was no timeline.
But here’s the thing.
It was always going to be okay.
There was never a second when I believed otherwise.
The same certainty I had when my youngest daughter was born fifteen weeks early. I knew she’d survive.
The same certainty I had now.
We were going to get through this.
No matter what it took, I was not going to let my children down. They had already been through enough.
This was the hardest thing I have ever faced.
But I’m an Angus man.
We stand. We fight. We don’t give in.
That’s the inheritance of this part of Scotland, and I’m proud of it.
Thankfully, I wasn’t fighting alone.
The people who carried us
I couldn’t have done it without my mum, my dad and my big sister.
It was my sister who first came to me and explained some of what had been happening. We talked it through, and it became obvious the children couldn’t go back. I messaged their mum to explain that, for their safety and wellbeing, they were staying with me.
Social Services became involved, as they should in situations like this, and agreed that the children should remain with me.
Then some completely unfounded allegations were made.
One afternoon, while I was caddying at Carnoustie, the police arrived looking for me. They came back twice that day.
I was terrified.
Not because I’d done anything wrong, but because I thought I’d lose my job. Carnoustie is one of the most famous golf courses in the world. The police don’t usually come looking for one of the caddies.
After my round I went straight to the station.
Thirty minutes later it was over.
They could see exactly what had happened.
I’d done nothing wrong.
That day taught me something I’ll never forget.
My caddie master, Ailsa Roy, stood beside me without hesitation. She allowed me to work around school drop-offs and pick-ups and supported me in every way she could.
That loyalty is something I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.
My fellow caddies were exactly the same.
My parents and my sister filled every gap they could.
School runs.
After-school clubs.
Babysitting.
Emotional support.
Anything we needed.
I also have to mention my partner.
We’d only been together two or three months.
She was eleven years younger than me and suddenly found herself dating a man living in a homeless unit with three children.
Most people would have run a mile.
She didn’t.
Every weekend she travelled through to help with the children, the housework and, just as importantly, me.
I call her Mo Banrigh.
“My Queen.”
And then there was Lesley.
A friend of my ex-wife’s.
Every second weekend she’d come through and take care of my children so my partner and I could spend a little time together.
I’ll never be able to repay that kindness.
The course
And this brings me to Carnoustie.
That magnificent course helped save my family.
It gave me an income.
It gave me flexibility.
It gave me purpose.
I’ve always believed I have the best job in the world.
But going through that period changed my relationship with the place forever.
I became even more grateful.
Grateful for the visitors.
Grateful for the greenkeepers.
Grateful for the starters.
Grateful for the rangers.
Grateful for every caddie I worked alongside.
Every morning I got up and battled life.
This wasn’t the time to feel sorry for myself.
This was the time to be like the course itself.
Tough. Strong. Resilient. Built to stand the test of time.
Four years on
Life looks very different today.
We have a beautiful home where my partner, my three children and my stepdaughter all live together.
My eldest has just completed their first year at Aberdeen University.
I couldn’t be prouder of them.
My son Michael is still at school and has now started caddying at Carnoustie himself.
Watching him walk the same fairways I have for almost three decades means more to me than I can put into words.
And my youngest…
She’s thriving.
She was born fighting.
Fifteen weeks early.
One pound nine ounces.
Her skin was translucent. You could shine a torch through it. She had no cartilage in her ears. Her whole body fit into the palm of my hand. I still have a photograph where her entire hand rests on my thumbnail.
She was given a sixty per cent chance of surviving.
And a sixty per cent chance of developmental difficulties if she did.
She beat every one of those odds.
Today she’s one of the toughest people I know.
When life throws something difficult at her, she just gets on with it.
I often wonder where she gets that from.
Four years ago we had almost nothing.
Today I have a home full of laughter, children who are thriving, a partner who stood beside me through the hardest days of my life, and a job that I love more than ever.
I wrote The Carnoustie Caddie as a thank you to the course and the people who helped me rebuild my life.
The truth is, after four years, my life has never been better.
And neither have I.
Thank you, Carnoustie.