The standout story from last week came from James, a caddie colleague who I’ll introduce to you later. While discussing how wild last week was on Monday morning between us, on the tips on the first waiting to go out, it went something like this:

“So, Jon Rahm on his own quietly sat on a chair next to me in the pop-up players lounge, with only one chair the other side. Didn’t say anything but pulled his phone out and started playing Candy Crush. Just sat there playing for a bit. Then Tyrrell Hatton strides over with no trousers on. Been a week, hasn’t it?”

It certainly has. I’m gonna try and make this quick because I have another, bigger newsletter to do internally imminently for work. Hello again, btw! Playing some golf? Tell me about it – please.

My personal highlight was watching Bubba Watson, a legend and magician, doused in on-brand pink in the leaders group on Sunday.

We joined Bubba on 10, playing with eventually unassailable winner, Joaquin Niemann, staying close to the scorer under the ropes walking the course behind the players. That hole started Bubba's crazy run getting to within three and nearly two after being eight back on the back nine. Missing the putt on 16 killed it for him, though. Different pressure when it's suddenly doable after flying, we perhaps suppose.

Driver off the deck on 10, well over 300 yards, downhill with a 90-yard cut slice around a big tree in the middle of the fairway to four feet. Four. Made eagle. We couldn’t see the green, and neither could he, but we were sat parallel in the rough waiting for him to hit. I got genuine chills yesterday walking that fairway retelling the story from seemingly hours ago to a lovely Scottish group.

Bubba hit dod again, this time on a downhill lie 300+, into 13 – The Airstrip – middle of the green. Sorcery.

The dod on 10 was widely recognised as the shot of the tournament but, for me, his lay up and specifically chip on 12 was even better.

None of the pros lay up on 12, it’s a driveable left-to-right camber par 4 down the chute for everyone. One of the few friendly holes on the property, potentially – but, like everywhere else to higher degrees, it suckers you in.

Water right and escalation if you fuck your drive, which is easily done – despite the now large and open hilly area to bail out left sans trees following player feedback (lol).

Bubba walked off with a tap in stress free bird at a crucial time in his run to maintain pressure on the leader. Extremely clever stuff when fully gassed. I was blindsided still softly talking to my VVIPs crouched in front of the tee behind a broadcast camera and his assistant in spitting distance when he hit iron mid-conversation with players still on the green where I was facing.

JCB was shut for four weeks preparing for LIV, which not only left me out of pocket but also, it turns out, mildly depressed I wasn’t working. My wife, Ally, and I went to the Yorkshire coast for a couple of days and I sneaked in a twilight at Ganton for a half price practice round before the Yorkshire challenge I’ll be doing there in September.

I asked Ally this morning, as she was getting dressed for work, if she could remember how many holes she walked with me with a camera round her neck while I was rushing round on our mini holiday.

Her: "Stopped at 5 at the halfway hut and rejoined you on 12."

Me: “You do realise you're talking the talk now, too?...!"

No escape from this life and space now. We are locked in. If I don’t get on a bag in five years we’re moving to Scotland. I am not joking.

Did a Hollinwell Open with a mate who won longest drive on 18. Annoyingly, our collective heads fell off a few holes prior in a betterball stableford – a format which is an affable best score from a pair – when we reliased we were within chances of placing high. Regardless, it was great to be back there again this year. Magic place 35 minutes up the road from me in the UK.

Fraser, my 12yo son, who’s just starting to tinker with golf, got his handicap – a target for this year, needing three full rounds signed by a member, ticked off by July and a meaty 46.6 handicap to attack.

It took four rounds to do his first three cards, an aborted penultimate attempt when he and I got frustrated early on and we walked off not speaking. He came back, though, and got it done in a better mood. Let’s see if he keeps going. There is zero pressure with this. If he stops now and plays again when he’s in his 30s I’ll be delighted. But I reckon he’ll play more for a few years now while in education, at the very least.

I was a LIV Golf sceptic going into last week, having only done the sum total of three days at Hoylake for the Open a couple of years ago. Besides, I was not there for a jolly, I was there to work and represent myself, Caddiemaster, and JCB. The spectator experience was – genuinely – actually decent. Compressed field, not uncompromisingly busy, swift to navigate, loads for the kids who are taking the edge off the small pockets of drunk twats. Seeing big stars up front.

My schedule for the week was: Pro-Am Thursday with Blandy and Meronk – Adrian hit an easy 7-iron off 17 – both lovely, range duties morning/afternoon Friday and Saturday, VVIP hosting Sunday. I got pulled off the range just before the mad rush for “more Pro V 1s, please” on Saturday by my manager to fill a gap in hosting under the ropes, which I was only due to do Sunday. Minutes later I was chucked into Bryson’s group, the heaviest of the lot, to escort guests behind the scorer who’s behind the cameras (sometimes), players and caddies.

Same on Sunday with Bubba. My head is still fizzing from it. The LIV hosting team based in comped VIP hospitality on 18 we worked with were truly world class in what they did and how they operated.

I was wide-eyed half the time watching them deliver. They enjoyed working with us, and likewise. Emma, pictured above, has 29 (twenty-nine) years’ service on the PGA. She got that gig from volunteering at a tournament. Mad how things can shake out, right?

One of our many caddies at JCB got a role on a bag with a young Spanish kid who’s a stand-in for the tournament. Did everything all week but hit a ball in the competition. I was envious but, like everything we do and are trusted with, our caddiemaster has the read on all of us and James certainly looked the part out there with his player. I was desperately hoping they would get on.

We are all slowly being rewarded for our graft, hustle, and commitment. I've no doubt everyone will get opportunities as and when. Being patient and being ready to take it when it arrives is key – usually with zero notice, given how fluid and truly fast paced our operation is currently in its first season. The feedback from the LIV hosting team was excellent; further legit confirmation we are a high-performing unit.

After a busy week, we had two more days to go Monday and Tuesday for post-event Am-Ams.

Privately upset about a good mate playing yesterday whose group I wasn’t allocated, I brought coffees and pastries in for everyone for some extra positivity and as it was our last final push post-LIV. I caddied on no breakfast due to last minute walking groups rather than carts on Monday, cancelling space for my rucksack containing not only my grab-go running-late breakfast but also my homemade lunch. Long day too, off the tips with amateurs. But we all made it work seamlessly, as per, paddling furiously under the surface.

The reason I didn’t get my pal from my home club is that I’d been earmarked for an important group booked by the owner. This would be my first big gig, and I was obliviously low-key consumed with not getting my mate. Funny, really, in hindsight. They were all Scottish, a dream group. Together, we got round 7,308 yards in wet tournament rough and fescue, Sunday pins from the weekend, off the back tees, plus trees which I’m told they are not used to up there.

Patience, Thomas. Patience. Some game and space, this.