The golf writers certainly earn their corn during an Open Championship week. The media centre, an eclectic holding zone which resembles Noah’s Ark and occasionally reeks like it too, echoes to the clatters of endeavour as the scribes batter away at the laptop keys like Little Richard thumping at his piano.

One dear colleague, amid great chuff-chuffs of billowing, industrious steam, estimated that he’d rattled out around 5000 words on the final preview day in a monumental effort that made a Proustian epic resemble a modest scribble on a Post-it note.

The diarist’s labours, meanwhile, have been earning praise from the high heid yins. “It’s clear to me that you’ve been doing the work of two men,” muttered the sports editor. “Laurel & Hardy.” Another fine mess, eh?

*The Open hasn’t been on the old cooncil tele for yonks. In fact, the Beeb handed over the rights to Sky for the 2016 championship here at Royal Troon.

That got the diarist reflecting on BBC commentators of yore and the delightful tones of Henry Longhurst.

Back in 1969, Tony Jacklin ripped his final drive down the 18th fairway at Lytham en route to Open glory. “What a corker,” cried Longhurst in exultation.

Funnily enough, an R&A official grumbled a similar line to the diarist the other day as I got my media lanyard caught in my flies. “What a plonker,” came the withering snort.

*Let the train take the strain. Despite those pesky “temporary timetables” that the old rattlers have been working to recently, ScotRail are flinging on extra services to shuttle the masses to The Open.

Golf and the railway network on these isles has a long and cherished history. The diarist also has an enduring relationship with the tracks. This column, for instance, tends to be a complete trainwreck.

The Herald’s coverage of The 152nd Open at Royal Troon is brought to you in association with Fairmont St. Andrews.