Life From A Window

As the profile says, golf hacker. That's me. People don't realise how hard it is. It is. Hard that is. Four years now I've been hacking. Four fruitless years, one step forward, at least one step back. Then last night it happened. The breakthrough. The barier, the wall, the psychological monkey on my all too stiff and inflexible back. I broke the magical 100 barrier. OK, if you're any good at golf I know you've done it loads of times and it's nothing and it's pathetic it took me so long. But it did and I've done it, and it was GOOD. So was it 99? 98? 97? keep guessing sucker. 95 oh yes! 95. When the pressure was on, on the 18th tee on 91 and every possibility of hitting a 9, what happened? I parred it. A sublime 4 with a lovely long putt to finish. I'm still smiling, ho ho ho. Happy days!

We all love lists. I love lists. Top 5 albums of all time, easy or hard? In order or not. Let's see, Blood on the Tracks, Nashville, Boatman's Call, ... No too hard. Top 5 artists (music of course). Bob Dylan (obviously), Tom McRae, Josh Rouse, James, Coldplay, REM, Kings of Leon, Kate Rusby, ... too hard again. Let's try some top one's if 5 is too hard. Favourite TV actor... haven't got one Favourite religion - which one's don't have a god? Favourite colleague (too many dodgy criteria linked with that one) Eureka. It's not that it;'s too hard, it's clearly just that I don't care enough to choose. OK music I can give it a go. Everything else? How much do you have to care about something to have a favourite? How about the 5 things I care most about of which there is more than one so I can make a list? Oh give up. Favourite person - Me. It's true, and you'd all agree if you were honest (about you, not me).

Don't you just hate those lane hoggers. Those inconsiderate people who find a lane and regardless of their speed or the speed of the rest of the traffic, or the recommended speed for that lane, just stay there. No I'm not talking motorways, but much worse and more annoying than that, it's swimming pools! This morning (as a totally coincidental for instance) I get into one of 4 "medium" lanes (there are 2 "slow" and 2 "fast". first of all, 2 other people follow me in, making 4 in the lane (yes I can count, there was one in there already, 1+1+2=4. In the medium lane next door, there is one person, ONE. Yet four in mine. To make matters worse, the one is slow. Not just "a little less than medium" slow, but "give him a prod to check he's still alive" slow. OK he's old as well, but is that an excuse for ignorance? No, I don't think so. Get in the slow lane Grandad Before I sweep you aside with mighty tidal wav...

I think it's fair to say that when it comes to friends, I'm not a keeper. I don't do the regular calls, emails, IM, letters, none of that stuff. Probably why over the years they've all drifted away. I'm sure I'm not alone in blokedom (specifically married blokedom) in most, if not all my friends being fathers of my childrens' friends, or more precisely, husbands of the mothers of my childrens' friends. this is important as it is the wives who befriend each other and we get to make do with the spouses. Not to insult my friends, many of whom, if they hadn't been chosen for me, I may well have picked, or at leat allowed them to pick me! So why, if I have such a cavalier attitude to friendship, do I get excited these days when I hear from friends from the bowels of ancient history? Is it that I'm regretting a youth long gone, of which I have few reminders? Is it that my life has a void which religion and politics failed to fill, and sport just ...