I have recently come back from a long weekend away with an old friend who has just retired (and who I hadn’t seen for the best part of a decade). I’m not going to dwell on his retirement at 46 (he deserves it, he really deserves it), but my time away did get me thinking. Despite the time since I had last seen him it was pretty clear after about 3 minutes that apart from some more grey hair (him) and a few extra pounds (me), nothing much had changed.
Having said that, retirement is certainly suiting him. That may have had something to do with the fact that we spent Friday afternoon and all day Saturday on the links at North Berwick (and my friend had been there for 3 weeks by the time I joined him). There is something about North Berwick which lifts the spirits in a way some other golf courses simply can’t. It might be the welcome in the club house, the endless variety of shots you are faced with (it’s a course for the purist, with blind shots and random walls playing a part) or the views of the Firth of Forth, Bass Rock and the island which was the inspiration for Treasure Island. I suspect that the fact my golf cost me the princely sum of £5 only might also have helped.
Whatever the reason, the break was a great way to recharge. I could draw breath and remind myself of the value of amongst other things, good friends, particularly ones who have started an electro-pop band in their 40s and who own a car which is bigger than my house and was once owned by King Hussein of Jordan! Even the fact that the A1 was closed at Scotch Corner couldn’t take the shine off my weekend.