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clinkwagon · 2 years ago

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At Clinkwagon we believe in passionate creations. Our array of products exhibit the love, talent and care invested in them. Clinkwagon stands with artisans to help them distribute their wonders throughout the world. An eclectic mix of products that are curated by master artisans is awaiting you.

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kennedysmithdesigns · 3 years ago

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Know About Leather Aprons

Kennedy Smith Design is Australia's Waxed Canvas Specialist. We offer a wide range of handcrafted aprons, Waxed canvas aprons and bags to suit the needs of hospitality, food, and retail homeware industries. Each apron can be customized to your reflect your Brand and each bag is made with the utmost care. Our aprons have a timeless look that can suit anyone: chefs, barbers, gardeners and even stay-at-home parents. Our bags are designed to be brought anywhere: grocery shopping at the supermarket, sunbathing by the beach, or busy workout days at the gym.

Covering usually the front of the body, an apron is basically a garment that is worn by professionals over other clothing. The word came from the French word “napron”, which means “a small piece of cloth.” However, “napron” later became “apron” via rebracketing. Aprons are made of different materials, including canvas, cotton, nylon and leather. With its roots dating back to the Middle Ages, traditional leather aprons with pockets is still quite a popular choice among professionals across various industries.

Why Do Professionals Need to Wear Aprons?

An Canvas aprons protects your uniform or clothing from substances that might splash onto it during an activity at the workplace or home. In the olden days, tradesmen were called “apron men” as they used to wear an apron habitually to safeguard their clothing. For several centuries, aprons have been in use inside kitchens to help cooks or chefs protect their clothing from oil splashes and food stains. Ideally, aprons should be worn in situations, in which people may need to protect their garments from substances that may damage or stain them.

Aprons for Different Professions

While aprons are used in many professions, here are three most common ones:

Aprons for Welding: Performing welding work without the necessary protection may lead to severe burns. A complete leather apron protects a welder from slag, sparks and heat, and is considered an important element of a welder’s protective gear.

Aprons for Painting: Artists have been using aprons for centuries. Besides, protecting their clothes from paint splashes and spills, leather aprons with pockets offer an easy way to hold knives, palettes, paint tubes and brushes.

Aprons for Cooking: Presently, this specific activity is most closely related to aprons. Leather aprons for cooking is quite popular these days and are available in a range of designs and styles. The real essence of an apron lies in the fact that it allows you to do something messy without the need to put on specialised clothes and that it can be worn or removed quickly as and when needed.

Aprons for Men

Initially, aprons were worn by male professionals – butchers, masons, barbers, blacksmiths, etc. – with each profession having its own specific style and colours. In the late 20th century, it’s recognised as a garment to be worn by women inside kitchens. Today, you are more likely to find bearded, tattooed and muscular male chefs wearing an apron than women in kitchens. Men, who work with drinks and food, have embraced aprons, specifically leather aprons, quite gracefully in the last couple of years.

How Should You Wear an Apron?

There are many different styles of aprons with the most common one being the full-length apron, which comes with Waxed Canvas tote bags waist ties and a neck loop. If the neck loop isn’t fixed, you may need to tie it first. Your apron should cover your outermost clothing, but it shouldn’t restrict you in any way. You should then cross the waist ties and tie them at the front to form a bow.

The waist ties shouldn’t be tied tight enough to make you feel uncomfortable, but it shouldn’t be kept too loose to hamper your day-to-day work.

#Waxed canvas aprons

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mycrofts-sword-gunbrella · 4 years ago

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Prequel to The Syncode: Part 1

First Meetings, Flights and Arrivals

Joanne Hartwell had never flown in a private jet before. Julian had promised her a little adventure into his world of secrets, MI6 and its equivalent, the Australian Secret Intelligence Service.

She wished more than anything that Julian could be here to share in the sumptuous surroundings of his luxury gulf stream. She missed him and their lively conversations they'd have when he'd return for a few weeks to his vacation home at Patos in the north Puget Sound - one of the many islands in the San Juan archipelago.

Due to the politics and intrigue Julian was currently embroiled in, he'd had to remain in Australia with ears on the ground as to who had infiltrated the top ranks of both the British and Australian Intelligence. He suspected it was more than one person, who was possibly working for a cabal or other secret network. True to form, he had made Joanne sign the Official Secrets Act; dear friend that she was, state secret knowledge of this magnitude needed to be in writing. He was quite the stickler for rules.

Still, the fact remained that nobody in the ASIS or the British SIS could be trusted. It was with her alone that he sent the top secret letter to give to his cousin Mycroft Holmes, head of British Security Services, and was now sending her across the Atlantic to meet him in London.

The trip would be a short one due to the potential danger Joanne could be in should she be found out. She was to meet Mycroft at The Langham hotel to hand off the letter.

Settling down to lunch, she spread a fine linen napkin over her lap and tucked into the tasty salad, pasta marinara and fine wine. Joanne couldn't wrap her head around all this wealth. She had known Julian was well off, but not to this extent. Although a practical man, his tastes ran toward the elegant and refined. The polished table and sideboard gleamed, the scent of the freshly cut flowers sublime. Knowing she would probably never again be surrounded by such luxury, Joanne intended to enjoy this to the fullest.

Savoring the exquisite cabernet sauvignon (over $2,000 a bottle!), she sank into the soft leather seat, her mind melting into sensory overload.

Diagnosed around age five with Synesthesia, life was an interesting, but not always a pleasant one. Some things, like the sweet, smooth wine she currently sipped, the colorful fragrance of the flowers, and the zesty full bodied pasta sauce, were wonderful to her senses. Colors and textures abounded.

When those senses crossed, colors were smelt and tasted, and impressions of everyday life were filtered and focused into her brain in ways she could not put into words. Touch was also affected, but to a lesser extent: Most objects could somehow be physically felt by only looking at them. Visually, letters and numbers were assigned their own various shades of color.

The auditory faculties gave her the most trouble. Sounds, as well as smells, had texture, weight and color, which could be hard to endure, especially in a city or large town. Joanne couldn't set foot in one without earphones and music to neutralize the noise and physical unpleasantness.

It was this very curse, or, as it turned out, gift, that was the cause for her current trip to London. Looking out the window, Joanne’s mind drifted back to the first time she had met Julian, a little over a year ago.

*****************************************************************

The couple ahead of her paused, stopping to look at something on the man's phone. Joanne slowed, debating whether to venture into the street and pass them, or wait. The bus to work was due in 4 minutes, and she wasn't in the mood to watch their romantic antics. Love, or the lack of it, had been on Joanne's mind lately.

She would be 46 in less than five months, and sensed time for that kind of thing was running out. What decent looks she possessed were fading by the year. It really was true, that on reaching middle age and beyond, some women wanted to find a mate; someone to take care of them, to grow old with and to not be alone in their later years. Being fiercely independent, Jo had scoffed at the idea. Yet lately on her brisk walks around the local trails, it seemed there was no avoiding couples and lovers, both young and old. Would she ever find someone? Considering she was a real homebody and never went out except for work, invigorating walks around the neighborhood and visits to the local park, it seemed unlikely.

Most days, she sat under the pine tree at the park with the geese. They were her only friends. Jo preferred the company of the birds to humans, especially after interacting with patients and co workers for hours on end.

It was very calming to rub her cheek against their soft, smooth plumage while they were otherwise occupied eating out of the treat bag. Each one had a different scent. One smelled like creosote, another like Lilacs, yet another like sunscreen. Joanne figured it was her Synesthesia playing with her senses, but still, it was wonderful. On cold days, she would slip her hands under their wings to keep warm. It felt like being enveloped in a warm down coat, the colors in her mind soft and fuzzy, subdued and calming. She'd been coming to this park for years, and all the geese knew her. As far as Joanne could tell, she was the only one they would let pet and hug them. In spring, the parents would nudge their goslings over to her. How many generations were there, now? She'd lost count.

Watching the parked cars across the small pond, Joanne wondered who sat inside them; it was usually the same cars day in and day out on their lunch breaks. Who were they? Possibly single and also looking for someone? Her hopes were dashed when the doors would open and a couple would emerge, or a family would tumble out, the kids running over to the nearby playground. The few men that were alone were either too old or too young. Resigned to her fate, she squared her shoulders and checked for oncoming cars, quickly hurrying past the mincing couple. They barely glanced at her as she rushed by.

Arriving at work, she checked the schedule to see when the last patient would be. The list was short, the patients spaced out by half an hour or more. Still, if all went well, there would indeed be time for a few quick laps around the block.

The afternoon went by quickly, each patient needing something extra, it seemed. An xray here, a layered compression cast there. The doctor was beginning to run behind, when her boss, Dr. Packman’s wife, informed her of an end of the day walk in, and a new patient, no less. So much for that walk. Still, with the rent going up astronomically every year, Joanne wasn't complaining, and coveted any extra hours provided. The Packman’s had been good to her for the five years she had worked there, had been spoiled in fact. She owed them much.

The last scheduled patient was leaving when the new one arrived. Joanne was cleaning and preparing the exam room when she heard a deep, booming voice come from the reception area. The accent was Australian, yet, there was a very definite underlying British one.

She heard the patient retire to the waiting room to fill out the new patient paperwork. Burning curiosity brought Joanne out to the front desk, who peered over the counter at the new arrival. Another man sat with him as they quietly conversed.

He was a big man; not fat in the conventional way, but large boned, and tall. She estimated him to be at least six five. He was elegance personified, impeccably dressed in a dark three piece suit, complete with a silk handkerchief and double Albert chain attached most likely to an old fashioned watch fob hidden inside the waistcoat pocket.

Dark hair thinning at the top and with slight jowls, the man looked to be in his early to mid sixties. Sensing her gaze, he glanced up at her. Piercing dark brown eyes bore into hers. Deep intelligence glittered in their depths, and something else, as though he could read her mind. There was something almost Middle Eastern about his features, yet his skin was as pale as an Englishman's. This was a new one for Jo, who could usually tell where a person was from, based on either accent or physical characteristics. He seemed to encompass both. She glanced down at the penciled in name on the schedule: Julian Holmes.

His companion was also well dressed, but not as extravagant as her patient. His bearing and speech to Julian Holmes was as a subordinate or employee.

Time seemed to stretch like melted taffy as she thought of something to say. Who was this man? No one of this caliber ever came to the clinic. Usually the clientele were Medicare patients, as well as the occasional retired doctor and everything in between. This was someone outside of normal social circles, and she couldn't wait to find out more about him. The reason for his visit never even crossed her mind, until she saw how he was holding his right foot. Even from across the room, she could tell it was painful for him.

Misinterpreting her curiosity for impatience, he stated drily, "Almost done. I am sorry to keep you so late this evening, I imagine you are ready to go home." His voice was deep and sonorous, cultured and refined.

The receptionist had left for the day an hour earlier, and the boss had gone downstairs to her office after checking him in. Her co worker was long gone, having been the opening MA that day, and the doctor was in his back office typing away at chart notes. It was just Joanne, this intriguing man, and his companion.

Signing the last of the paperwork, he slowly stood and came over to the desk. "Back in a tic, Henry", he called, looking over his shoulder to the seated man, who bowed his head curtly in acknowledgement and resumed texting.

"I believe you will find everything in order", Julian stated, sliding the papers across the counter. Considering how impeccably he was dressed and well groomed, she didn't doubt it. Just his attention to the smallest details of his wardrobe was astounding.

His expensive cologne also drifted over. Subtly spicy, the scent flashed colors and textures through her mind: A dark red with subtle indigo, smooth with small gritty points of yellow sprinkled throughout. It was exquisite.

Barely glancing at the paperwork, she nodded, suddenly shy. "Yes, looks fine. Come on back." Opening the door, she was about to lead him down the hall to the exam room, when she paused. "Would you like to bring your friend back with you?", she asked.

He shook his massive head in the negative. "No need. That is my assistant Henry, who sees to my transportation needs." She nodded to Henry in greeting, who looked up and smiled briefly before returning to his phone. Joanne took her patient back.

Although clean, she realized the rooms and the small clinic in general, must have appeared very homely and economic compared to what he was normally used to. It was all somewhat daunting. How had he ended up here?

Taking a deep breath, she was determined to stay focused. "How're you this evening? She gestured to the podiatric chair. "Go ahead and have a seat in the chair of honor!” Normally her attempt at humor would crack a smile on the face of even the most reticent of her patients. Not so with this taciturn man. His sense of humor was either nonexistent or very dry. “Also, please remove your shoes and socks. What brings you in tonight?"

Slowly, the man named Julian Cambridge lowered himself into the chair next to the one she had indicated. "I'll pop up there in one moment. It is difficult to bend down these days," he said, indicating his shoes. She couldn't imagine this man 'popping' off anywhere.

"Do you need help removing them?" she asked. He impatiently shook his head, looking slightly affronted. "I may be getting on in years, but I've not reached that point yet. Tell me, do I look in need of assistance?" Although stated politely, there was an undercurrent of indignation. His dark eyes flashed.

Startled, Joanne backed away. "No offence meant, really! It's just, I always ask.. as a courtesy..", she faltered.

"To elderly persons, you mean?", he added somewhat testily.

"I.." She trailed off. What could she say? This was going sideways very fast. Focusing on his current problem, her mind went on autopilot as she peppered him with medical questions.

Shoes and socks removed, he settled his large frame into the exam chair. "Lift up for me?", she asked, indicating his long legs that stretched far beyond the chairs edge. Shifting a lever, the bottom half was pulled out to extend it. Tipping him back using the foot peddle, Joanne continued on. "Any history of gout?", she asked, noting the red, swollen first toe.

"As a matter of fact, yes. That is what brings me in tonight. As you can see, it is incredibly painful". He almost winced as Joanne lightly felt the heated skin with the back of her hand. Scribbling down notes, she continued the obligatory questions while glancing at his paperwork. Age of 61. Unmarried. Local address on one of the San Juan islands up the Sound. Employment: Civil Servant. Hmm. Interesting.

Julian' sharp eyes missed nothing. He seemed to be studying her as much as she was him. Sensing what she was thinking, he said, "I live in Australia, but make my home on Patos Island during the summer months. As you can see, the heat does not agree with my condition."

"You live on Patos Island? I didn't know there were any homes there. It's all owned by the Bureau of Land Management, if I remember right. Nice island, but all wilderness."

"Ah. Well, some years ago, I purchased the island from your government. There is only one home there currently - mine. Of course, it's closed to the public now. It's private and quite suitable."

"No way! You OWN the entire island?!" Jo couldn't help gawping. Some of her patients did indeed live on the San Juan's, but none actually owned a whole island.

Julian smiled, amused by her reaction. "A man in my occupation likes a bit of peace and quiet. I obtained it at a discount. "

"How'd you do that? Our gov isn't exactly known for that kind of thing."

A rich, baritone laugh suddenly erupted from his expansive chest. "Connections my dear girl. I know many people in your government, and some of them owe me favors." His reserved demeanor returned once more.

She could only stare wide eyed at him. His check in complete, it was time to let the doctor know he was ready. And yet, the more she learned of this mysterious man, the more she wanted to know.

One thing was certain: There was an authoritative and possibly dangerous air about him. Whatever position this man held, most likely a senior one, he was not one to be crossed. Julian Holmes was perhaps the most intimidating man she had ever met. And fascinating.

"How did you find out about us? I would have thought there would be podiatrist somewhere nearby on one of the larger islands."

"There is not. The one on the nearest island retired, apparently. I met one of your prior patients in a small supermarket on Orcas Island. It's the nearest grocers to Patos. After noting my bothersome foot, he commented that I should see a podiatrist, and yours came highly recommended."

It was true, a few patient of theirs currently lived or had retired up to the various San Juan islands. It was a small world, indeed.

Joanne wondered about his 'connections' in the government. Civil Servant, it had said on his occupation description. Definitely Australian government. How had he even found Patos? Who exactly was he connected with, and how high up did they go? How high in the upper echelons was this man? She had to know.

"What is your job, if you don't mind my asking? What kind of work does a civil servant entail?” Joanne indicated the registration form. “You can tell me if I'm being too forward. It's just, you are unlike anyone that's ever come to our clinic before.." Afraid she had been too bold, she held her breath, praying his temporary good humor wouldn't evaporate. It didn't.

"Ah!", said he, still chuckling. "You know much more about me at the moment, and you've yet to tell me your name." The man was evasive, she gave him that!

"It's Joanne.."

He raised an eyebrow, silently entreating her to continue.

"Hartwell," she finished. "'The Average' Jo to my friends."

"Well, Miss 'Average Jo to my friends Hartwell', it is very nice to meet you. I assume you've surmised mine," he noted, glancing at the paper and back to her.

A wide grin spread across her face. "Why yes. Yes I did!"

She liked this man. Reserved and dour at first, he slowly opened up to her. Joanne detected a certain loneliness about him. Having worked over twenty years in the medical field, she had come across many like him. No matter their job, they were usually loners outside of work, and not quick to trust people. Oh yes, she knew this kind quite well. It took one to know one. He seemed to sense this, and was possibly thinking the same.

Not wanting to keep him here later than he needed to be, she went to inform Dr. Packman that he was ready. Still furiously typing out a prior patients' note, he barely nodded and indicated he would be in shortly. Joanne quickly rushed back to her patient.

"He's just finishing a chart note, and will be in shortly. Hey, I notice you seem to have both an Australian accent and a British one. I could be wrong.. I always like guessing where folks are from with their accents, but yours is different!"

Julian looked surprised and taken aback. At first she thought she had (again) offended him, but there was nothing but a keen interest on his face now.

"Really? You picked up on that?” Smoothly evading her question, he asked a few of his own. “Tell me, do you know any foreign languages? You appear have an ear for it".

"Well.. I learned Italian when I was stationed in Naples. Was in the Navy for 12 years before I had to get out for my back." (In truth she had gotten herself kicked out, having taken a drug that she shouldn't have, but her bad back had played a part in why she had had to take it. There was no way she would admit any of this to him). Joanne sensed he knew she was holding something of importance back. Luckily, he didn't press the issue.

"I also learned the Russian alphabet," she continued, "and the Greek, as it's the parent to the Cyrillic, so it wasn't too hard. During my stay there, I'd gone to both Russia and Greece, and figured I should at least learn how to read it, even if I didn't know what I was actually reading. Unless it sounded like English phonetically, I had no clue!"

He looked at her, curious. "And how long did it take to learn them?"

"A few days."

Julian's eyes widened, studying her intently. "Yet you say you did not actually learn them. Only how to read the written texts."

"That's correct. I wanted to, but figured it wasn't worth my time as I'd only be in each place a week. Still, I liked the music, especially Greek. I still read it, and YouTube the videos with subtitles. Also the cursive."

"And Italian. You spoke the language, then?"

"Yes, it was easy once I learned how each letter or pair of them are pronounced. Like 'CH' is pronounced with a hard 'K' sound, not like CH in say, chips."

"And it took you how long?" The intensity of his gaze was unnerving. It was as though he were deeply considering something. What, she couldn't fathom.

"Ah, well, I didn't really apply myself too hard. I worked at the Naval Hospital, so everyone including the Italians spoke English there. It was only when I moved out into town that I really buckled down on it. Probably a month or so, and even then, it wasn't that good, but ok enough to get around. It’s only when totally immersed in a language that I can learn it fully, and since I wasn't, well.. it was a bit broken."

Julian's hands were steepled under his chin as he gazed at her, his thoughts turning inward. She remembered her earlier question.

"So, how is it that your accent both British and Australian? Or am I wrong?"

He was about to reply, when the Podiatrist walked in, thus ending their engaging conversation. It would have to wait, but by then, the visit would be over and he would be wanting to get home.

It was this last thought that made her wonder how he was getting home. Patos Island was a good three or more hours by ferry, at least. She had taken the Victoria Clipper to British Columbia a few times; it was almost a two hour ride. This island was farther north than even Victoria. She needn't have worried, though.

"I have a marine vehicle waiting at the Edmond docks," he said, rapidly texting something into his phone. "My assistant is calling a cab as we speak. "

Marine vehicle? What kind? She couldn't imagine the man in a speed boat.

Reading the question in her eyes, he stated simply: "Just a small boat to get about around the islands." Enigmatic indeed.

The diagnosis of gout was confirmed by ultrasound, as well as mild arthritis in the joints of the foot and ankle. A repeat visit would be required for the gout, as well as a cortisone injection for the ankle at a later date, after the gouty flare up subsided. A soft cast would be needed both today and again at his next visit to keep the swelling under control.

Joanne was applying the wrap when the doctor walked back in, telling her to schedule a follow up for Julian in a week. For some reason, this made her very happy. Julian hid a small smile as well.

Joanne led him out the connecting door to the waiting room. The assistant Henry was still texting on his phone. She suspected he did more than just see to Julian's transportation.

About to hand him a reminder card, Julian waved a large but elegant hand, the cufflinks on his sleeve gleaming. "No need for that. I've memorized it, as well as the phone number of this office, should I need it." She had memorized the date, too.

He looked pointedly at her. "I trust I will see you again?"

"Yes, I'll be here." With bells on, she thought.

"Very well. We will continue our earlier conversation at that time, and I shall endeavor to have an answer to your earlier question. Now! Henry! I believe that is our cab." Bright lights swept the small but otherwise empty parking lot outside as the cab parked and waited.

Julian extended his hand to her as he warmly shook it. "Thank you again Miss Hartwell for yours and Dr. Packman’s excellent service. It was a pleasure, I assure you. Ma'asalama. Hataa naltaqi mujadadaan."

With that, he turned and was followed out the door by Henry. "Goodnight, Miss Hartwell", he said, hurrying after his employer.

Julian's exotic cologne lingered in the room.

They were gone before she could ask for a translation of that last line, and what Arabic dialect it was that Julian had spoken. There was still the question regarding his mingled Australian and British accents.

Another mystery surrounding this fascinating man. One and more that Joanne hoped would be solved in one weeks time.

On their next encounter, however, she was to discover that Julian knew far more about her than she realized, and that his answers would lead to even more questions.

#mycroft #bbc sherlock #ofc #au mycroft's cousin #fanfic

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hamiltongolfcourses · 4 years ago

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The History of the Game

Golf's Early History

What do you think makes the game of golf unique? It involves striking a ball with a club, cross country, into a hole. No other early club and ball game had these three essential elements of golf.

Many countries have claimed the origins of golf. The Chinese and the Dutch have both claimed to have created the game of golf. The Dutch had a courtyard club and ball game and another game played on ice where the ball was propelled towards a post. Meanwhile, centuries ago, the Chinese played a game using equipment remarkably similar to golf clubs, apparently to hit a ball into a hole in courtyards. However, it is only in Scotland that the three essential elements of golf were met.

The game of golf can be traced to Scotland. In 1457, parliament banned the game so that more time would be spent on archery practice, which was necessary for Scotland’s defence at the time. Following the 1501 repeal of the ban, the game prospered. The Honourable Company of Edinburgh Golfers was the world’s first golf club, organized in 1744.

The Playing Field

The first golf courses were on links, which was a term commonly used for public land close to the sea. This land would be used by locals to graze their sheep, play games and other activities. Golfer wore a red coat to warn others that a golf ball might be coming their way.

The caddie was an essential part of early golf, not only carrying the player’s clubs under his arm, but also marking out the course and spotting the flight of the ball. Caddies survived the introduction of the first golf bags in the 1880s, but the popular use of pull carts and motorized golf cars has all but brought an end to this colourful aspect of the game.

In fact, the traditional 18-hole rounds we have today can be credited to the old course at St. Andrews. Their original layout was 22 holes – eleven holes out and the same eleven back – but eventually they decided that two of the holes were too short. They combined two holes, which made the course 9 out and 9 back and the standard 18 holes of golf was born.

Golf is one of the only games which is played on an ever varying playing field.Â The rules are set to address the vastly different circumstances this can bring about, and establish equality between players. The original 13 rules have been vastly expanded. In addition, there is a Decision on the Rules of Golf book that explains and interprets the Rules under actual playing conditions.

Golfers are equal under the Rules, but are not necessarily equal in skill levels. Golf’s unique system of handicapping has allowed the sport to be enjoyed by men and women of all ages and abilities and has helped the sport grow to its present day popularity. One hundred years ago, golfers were measured against the best player in the club, who became known as the scratch player. But the scratch player in one club may not possess the same skill level as the scratch player at a more difficult golf course. To level the playing field and get a true rating of each player’s ability, a system of handicapping was developed that took into account the relative difficulty of every course.

Expansion of the Game

The Scots carried golf to other lands, including Ireland, England, India, France, Australia, New Zealand and, of course, Canada and the United States.

Interest in golf remained limited until the 1890s, when the game experienced its first boom throughout the world. Industrial advances brought about great changes to everyday life. The result was reduced working hours, greater access to public and private transportation and a general increase in leisure time. Most importantly, women were being freed from the social restrictions of the Victorian era and started playing golf, making it a family game.

The game grew rapidly from six clubs in 1889 to fifty clubs across the country by 1902. This growth led to national competitions and the formation for governing bodies including the Royal Canadian Golf Association (now Golf Canada) in 1895, Canadian Professional Golfer’s Association (now PGA of Canada) in 1911, and the Canadian Ladies’ Golf Association (now amalgamated with Golf Canada) in 1913.

Golf Equipment

Can you imagine a golf ball costing as much as a suit of clothes? Improvements in the manufacture of golf balls contributed, as much as anything, to the growth of the game everywhere. Until the 1850s, the golf ball was hand-made, expensive and extremely fragile. Far from round, the feathery was made by stitching sections of leather into a sphere, then stuffing it with the equivalent of a top hat full of feathers. An experienced ball-maker could produce only four balls a day.

A new material called gutta percha was introduced in the mid-nineteenth century for making balls. Balls became less expensive and therefore more available. The first gutty balls had a smooth surface, but they were found to fly further and straighter when they became cuffed. This led to the discovery that dimples improve the flight of a golf ball. Gutties were soon â€œhand-hammeredâ€ with patterns and molded to a variety of designs, leading to the modern style dimple we see on today’s golf ball.

Introduced in 1901, the rubber core ball surpassed the gutty in durability, reliability and accuracy. The fore-runner of the ball we use today, it was made by winding elastic thread tightly around a rubber core, then encasing it all in gutta percha.Â Since the 1920s, many materials have been introduced as golf ball cores, including glass, water and cork, each with varying results. The modern ball is usually a two or three-piece construction which allows for greater compression against the club head. The one piece is still used on many driving ranges.

As with early golf balls, golf clubs were individually hand crafted by Scottish club-makers. As the game became more popular this was no longer practical, so the club head was shortened to aid mass production. Early iron clubs, made by blacksmiths, were used only for digging the ball out of heavy rough and deep ruts. The introduction of the sturdy gutty ball increased the use of iron clubs. Cleekmakers began making drop-forged iron heads which could be mass produced.

To tee the ball, early golfers scooped up a handful or earth or sand into a mound and placed the ball on top. Later, they used a sand tee mold. The first commercial wooden tee was introduced in 1921, and, soon after, golfers were overwhelmed with advertisements for tees of all shapes and sizes. Today, the standard wooden tee is a staple of the game.

Professionals

The club professional has been a central figure of golf since the mid-19th century when people the likes of Tom Morris became a fixture of St. Andrew’s the home of golf. Teacher, equipment manufacturer/supplier, tournament organizer, caddy master the roles have changes throughout the century, but the club professional maintains their place as many players primary contact with the game.

The first golf courses in Canada, as everywhere, were made mostly by nature. Our first golf professionals improved them, but not until a year prior to the First World War did Canada recruit one of the new breed of Golf Course Architects to design the first of many courses that have withstood the test of time.

CHAMPIONSHIPS

With the development of golf professionals, came a need to test these leaders of the game for skill. The Canadian Open Championship was initiated for just this purpose in 1904 and is the third oldest National Open championship in the world.

The introduction of a Canadian Tour (now PGA TOUR Canada) as a testing ground for young golfers has expanded the number of Canadians competing around the world, as well as the quality of professional golf in Canada.

Golf served as one of the first sports that encouraged the participation of women. The resulting popularity brought about the first Ladies’ open Championship, held in Britain, in 1893. Canada followed suit holding the first Canadian Ladies’ Amateur Championship in 1901.

Amateur Golf

The history of competitive golf in Canada truly begins with the 1st Canadian Amateur in 1895. Since then, golfers have sought to demonstrate their prowess. Improvements in transportation and the changing demands of work and life, have enhanced competitive opportunities.

A new world emerged at the close of World War I, the widespread introduction of the radio and other communications, the better transportation in services and a new commitment to the enjoyment of life was reflected in the world of golf. Amateur golf was at its peak of public interest, especially the Canadian Amateur. Professional golf was just beginning to draw attention and more significant purses. Canadians competed successfully internationally and were the subject of nation pride.

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fulltidalwavetrash · 6 years ago

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alltrendystuff-blog · 6 years ago

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xerxesaustralia-blog · 5 years ago

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daisychaindaydreamsblog · 6 years ago

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Shopping from eco-conscious fashion labels: “ethical and eco-conscious is the new black…”

While changing the trajectory of the environment can seem out of reach for one person, by supporting sustainable brands, you’re helping to ensure that their success will encourage more and more brands to follow in their eco-friendly footsteps. This will have a significant impact on the planet. Oh, and did I mention that these brands are really stylish?

So after doing a some research online, I have discovered many eco-friendly and ethical fashion labels I’m keen to support and look into more in the future… I hope you find this week’s eco-conscious style blog post an informative, inspiring and interesting read.

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Reformation – I is one of the most high-profile sustainable brands which has paved the way for a slew of other brands to do the same. In the environmentally conscious fashion label’s own words, “Our factory uses the most efficient, eco-friendly, and pro-social technologies and practices we can get.”

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Amour Vert – an innovative and sustainable fashion label, Amour Vert highlight women who live the brand’s ethos: sustainability, ease, and a communal investment in the planet for generations to come. In fact, the women Amour Vert has shot for their January catalog bring the label’s vision for change in the world to life – featuring entrepreneurs, activists, environmentalists, living for a future beyond themselves. Pretty impressive, right! I’ve also read that Amour Vert plants a tree every time someone buys one of its tees. How’s that for guilt-free shopping?

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Woof Grey – The straw bags you saw all over social media last summer now come in even more varieties from the lifestyle store Wood/Grey: where everything is sourced with sustainability at the forefront of each brand.

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Veja – as seen on the Duchess of Sussex, Meghan Markle during their royal visit to Australia. She wore the fashion girl-favourite Parisian sneakers called Veja Esplar sneakers. (affordable) I Transparent manufacturing methods using approved raw materials and reducing carbon emissions are just a few of this shoe brand’s plus-points. I The brand is known for is stylish aesthetics, fair-trade organic cotton, and sustainably sourced rubber from the Amazon. But what is interesting to note is that the company does zero advertising and relies completely on word-of-mouth since it launched. To learn more or check out their sustainable shoe range, visit the Veja website.

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Angela Roi – Created on the foundation of kindness, values and love, Angela Roi is an ethical luxury handbag brand in New York. All of their bags are made out of animal-friendly leather by skilled craftsmen, making the range both cruelty-free and sweatshop-free. With the grandeur of luxury and within the realm of humanity, the hope is to pave a path of altruism and to promisingly transform the way of the fashion industry. With constant evolution, sustained originality, evergreen inspiration, Angela Roi presents the epitome of premium quality, impeccable craftsmanship and unparalleled attention to detail.

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Donni – This L.A.-based brand has doing good at the core of its business, so this season, the brand is partnering with The Downtown Women’s Center and is looking to support homeless women by looking to the future and upskilling.

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Matt & Nat – since launching in 1995, eco-friendly brand Matt & Nat has stayed true to its ‘Live beautifully’ motto, experimenting with recycled materials across its accessories range. Considering the welfare of the planet throughout manufacturing, the Mat(terial) & Nat(ure) range sees the likes of recycled plastic bottles, rubber, cork and cardboard feature across backpacks, cross-body bag and clutches. Striving to design timeless and durable styles, the sustainable fashion brand incorporates several quality control and “wear and tear” tests every season to guarantee resilience and strength in all its merchandise. Their sandals, sneakers and oxfords are as functional and weather resistant as they are comfy and fashionable to wear.

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Saul – described as “womenswear for the minimalist at heart”, Saul is an LA based eco-friendly womenswear label known for it’s cool-girl essentials. Based around an environmentally sustainable means of production, yet focusing on maintaining a superior level of quality, Saul reconsiders and recreates the classic wardrobe silhouettes. In fact, their collections are comprised solely of dead-stock and vintage fabrics meaning that once they’re gone, they’re gone. Through using fabrics in this capacity, Saul has greatly reduced both our carbon footprint and negative impact on the environment.

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Clare V – I first discovered this brand through it’s iconic petite Alice bag I’ve seen lots of fashion bloggers post on Instagram during Summer. Little did I know, it was made using eco-friendly vegetable dyes and renewable resources. Mind blown…

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Bamboo Body – Created by two Australian sisters, Bamboo Body uses organic bamboo fabric (which is softer and more breathable than cotton, and has naturally occurring anti-bacterial and anti-odor properties) in all of their pieces which range from cozy basics to dresses to pyjamas and underwear.

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Sotela – is an ethically made brand without sweatshop labor, and is famously deemed “the last dress you’ll ever need”, Sotela makes minimal, chic dresses meant to fit your body throughout the many phases of a woman’s life. Ultimately, Sotela believes that well designed clothing can be made without compromising people or the planet.

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Girlfriend Collective – this activewear label have created a range of eco-friendly, fair trade and BPA free leggings, which are ethically made in Vietnam. Girlfriend Collective also feature models of all sizes, promoting body positivity and do not photoshop any of their images – yes! In fact, every single pair is actually made from recycled water bottles; and to date the label has reportedly saved six million water bottles and counting.

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Oscar Wylee – an adopter of the ‘one-for-one’ business model, Oscar Wylee is an ethical eyewear brand based in Sydney, Australia. Every pair of glasses bought is matched, helping to provide someone in need of access to affordable eye care. I have two chic pairs of their glasses, and genuinely recommend their high-quality products to others.

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That’s all for this post folks! I hope you found this week’s eco-conscious style blog post an informative, inspiring and interesting read. 🙂

Daisy Chain Daydreams xox

STYLE: Eco-conscious & Ethical Fashion labels to try… Shopping from eco-conscious fashion labels: "ethical and eco-conscious is the new black..." While changing the trajectory of the environment can seem out of reach for one person, by supporting sustainable brands, you're helping to ensure that their success will encourage more and more brands to follow in their eco-friendly footsteps.

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olga-blog22 · 6 years ago

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fallenyouths · 7 years ago

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Ziggy had never really understood the complications of city life. Yet every time he roamed the streets near the towering buildings, he discovered something new and confusing, whether it was a piece of technology that he considered to be obsolete, or how the people he was surrounded with acted, how they were fine with being crowded, as they pushed and they shoved. They were like an entirely different species to the country boy, who’s distaste for those around him grew each time he witnessed their stupidity.

He carded a hand through his hair, allowing the sanding strands to fall upon his face, tattoos embellishing his arms, right down to the ends of his knuckles. The colours adorned his arms in a way that made him unique, that drew attention to his muscular form. His amber eyes grazed over the campus he had found himself situated at, kicking at the ground lightly with a set of black low cut vans, a set of black jeans rolled at the ankle, a loose pale blue-grey button down hanging off his shoulders, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He had a leather satchel hanging hear his hip, however it didn't cross over his torso, rather handing down, flowing the line of his body. Ziggy had a cigarette hanging from pale lips, as he strolled through the many courtyards. He could feel the eyes on his body staring at his tattoos, at the way he held himself tall, his customary glare falling onto his features. He was new, and new made him interesting.

The small comments he heard filtered into his thoughts, how some considered him attractive, or some had a distaste for the way he carried himself. Ziggy shoved his hands into his pockets, however not before he snubbed the cigarette against the top of the rubbish run, throwing the remaining waste into the trash. He puffed out one last cloud of smoke, watching the tendrils curl, before his strolled on towards his first class.

However, something caught his attention. He caught the eye of someone who held themselves in a similar fashion, with the icy cold stare that piqued his interest. But he turned his head away, a small smirk pulling the corners of his lips up ever so slightly. Pushing the classroom door open, he slid out one of the seats and sat, outstretching his legs, before crossing them at the ankles. His finger’s began to tap at the wood, the tattoos on his knuckles in full view. He knew that tattoos were more stigmatised than back in the country, having found out the hard way. His knew the uncomfortable stares from the middle aged suburban women, and men, taking disgust as their kids were told to not stare.

Ziggy had yet to grow to “love the American dream”, despite what other’s told him. He couldn’t wrap his head around how entitled those around him could be. They had so much in comparison to those who lived out west in WA, technology having been rare, with the extent being perhaps a television of a quad bike, or the utes used to transport gear from cattle farm, to the markets.

He noted that the potentially older male from before had entered the classroom, yet the sandy haired youth ignored him, rather training his eyes on the front of the classroom, hearing the door click shut as the professor moved through the small crowd.

“Good morning class! I’m sure you enjoyed your break! We’ve got a new semester starting, and with, we got some new students into our first hour.” The professors voice was too cheery for his liking, the thicker accent causing him to cringe every so slightly.

“Ziggy, Hannah, come up please, introduce yourself!” Those words caused him to sigh, as he dumped his bag on the desk. He stood with a distasteful look on his face, disgruntled and annoyed, as he moved through the sea of people. He stood tall next to the other student, who looked meek, and afraid. He already didn’t like her, having grown annoyed at how weak he perceived her to be.

Hannah however, spoke first, talking quickly and briefly about where she was from, and intended to study design. The professor gestured for him to go, and he moved forward slightly, not really wanting to speak due the way his accent rolled off his tongue. But he sucked it up, annoyed.

“g’day guys, you probably ‘eard that m’name’s Ziggy, I was born and raised in the butt-fuck of nowhere Western ‘straya.” He spoke with his country drawl, word’s slurring together, a common trait of the Australian accent. His sentences were often dotted with profane words, a norm back home. Most of the residents

“I take music, been doin’ it since forever, its pretty beaut. - Thanks, I guess.” He trailed off slightly, scratching the back of his head briefly as he cringed at the chatter that started up around him. He could hear the comments throughout the crowd, their excited talking, yet he hated it. He was treated as if he was more like an attraction then a person, it was a strange feeling, one of his least favourite. But it was to be expected, those around him had a weird fixation on Australia, with exaggerated stereotypes rising from the ashes of his country’s reputation.

“Alright, that's enough, I want y’all to listen up.” Ziggy had moved back to his seat, sitting whilst his fore-arms rested forwards on his thigh, hands knitted together.

“We are going to get to know each other! I’m gonna pair you off for our first assessment, and I want you guys to remain paired, for the remainder of this work, and you are going to produce a 6-minute-long presentation about the experience. Try and spend time with each other, I will be judging the authenticity.” Hell spawn had just spewed from the professor’s mouth and Ziggy’s eyes widened, only slightly, as he sat up straighter, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

“Right! I want Elizabeth with Rachael, Ben with Madeline,” The professor began spouting of names, and he began to zone off slightly, fidgeting with the dirt that had grown under his nails.

“And finally! I want Ezra with Ziggy, good luck!” He knew who Ezra was when perhaps the room went almost eerily silent, eyes trained on the well dressed man who sat tall, seated a little more forward than he was.

“Move out towards your partners, have fun!” Ziggy already hated his life enough without being close some rich snob, and in an annoyed manner, picked up his things and started to move, taking a seat perhaps a metre away from the man. He could see the dark hair and sculpted features, that almost out-shadowed his distrust for the person in front of him. He didn’t get close, he didn’t feel safe around him, nor around anybody.

Ziggy cocked his head to the side, before relaxing ever so slightly.

“Aight, fuck. Let’s get this bullshit over and done with?” The blonde broke the silence, an almost aggressive tone emanating from his lips. He was confident, yet unwilling to participating, keeping his words short.

#ziggy

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