Away for a weekend abroad with some pals, mostly losing golf balls and cursing the wretched game.
It is really just a tour of hope.
Hope that the game is good. That the sun shines. That no one gets hurt. But mostly, hope that the game is good…
Three rounds and our fervent hopes are fading fast. The hardest game of all is winning and terrorising us all. The only upside being when we retire to various bars and restaurants to discuss what might have been and that things will be different tomorrow…
Over the weekend, we exchange stories of current endeavours and more generally poke fun at each other. These guys all know my family well and so no catch-ups re Tom are necessary but I do explain where The Brothers Trust is at and what plans that we have.
The last round completes. The winner and losers are decided and the spoils shared.
Our winner has a points total that I will not reveal. His princely sum of £130, a reflection of our awful game.
But after the awards ‘ceremony’ – our winner takes me aside. He’s been listening to what I’ve been saying about The Brothers Trust – and he wants to give his pot to The Trust. ‘People need this more than me.’
Life lesson here – if you want to advantage yourself in life – a good place to start is to associate and hang out with decent people.