written by Jacques Bornman
I have a love/hate relationship with golf. I love talking about the shots, the pro’s, the tournaments, the courses and all things golf. I love to spend money on magazines and equipment — all in the hope of improvement. Once, I’ve even been on top of the golfing world. I won tournament after tournament. Competitors crumpled with fear at the sight of my name on the leader board. It was the stuff of legends — a sight to behold. But it wasn’t to last. My career came to an abrupt and tragic end — a power failure forcing me (never a good thing in golf) to abandon the “Tiger Woods for PC” fantasy world.
The hate dimension of the relationship comes into play on the fairways (I wish) and greens. I have been playing golf for more than 10 years now, endured many troubles and toils. Golf is a humbling game — where one day you have the game figured out, and the following day you’re reminded that its math is not that simple, and it doesn’t always add up. One perfectly executed shot though, is enough motivation for rounds on end.
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I’m a keen musician. No, wait maybe musician is too strong a word. I’m a keen impersonator of a musician. Anyway, it was at the piano, in a dance of black and white keys, that the thought came to me: The heart is a guitar. An instrument of beauty, inspiration and most of all love. Each with its own tone, each responding differently to touch and feel, with the capacity to make soul-music — taking us to places words alone cannot reach.