I came late to golf...

...but I still had to endure the teenager's heartbreak.  Like a wall-flower at the golfing prom I was, at first, too shy and uncoordinated to ask the girl of my dreams to dance.

I was home alone with a stash of gaudy mags showing impossible beauties, tips to succeed, surefire gadgets were sold to make you longer and truer.  My head was filled with nonsense.  It wasn't satisfying.  I threw away the lot, opened my eyes and just played the game for fun.  And there were moments when it was fun.

The excitement was not found often in the manicured acres but in the wild places.  The natural setting of the links where the struggle between you, the elements and your Gods are most visceral.  Places where a hole or a shot is never the same twice, where what is taught is not as important as what is felt.  A passing success here is one against the golfing gods and has a story to tell.

The less important stuff is that I am now a Senior, just, about as good at business as I am at golf, have three grown children, three step-children a daughter and a step son in law, two grand children and a lovely wife all of whom give me less angst than a golf ball.  Mostly.