Livin in the Past

 *yawns* that was quite the nap. Why didn't someone wake me up? 

WTAF

And, for the award of longest delay between blog posts.. ME! 10~ years is quite an achievement. I'd like to say i've grown during this time - in some way, but sad to say thats probably not likely.

Ola

Long time no post.. I know, I know...Busy busy, so much shit to do, so little time. Watch this space - as I will be posting much more over the coming month. I promise!

For the Love of the Game

At age 13 I picked up a golf club for the very first time. My grandfather had taken me to Blackheath golf club in the early hours one morning. After hitting his tee shot on the 3rd hole he turned to me and handed me the club. He simply smiled and motioned towards the hole.

From that moment, I was in love with the game. I would play golf with my grandfather every school holidays. He would tech me not only the tricks and tips of good technique, but the love of the game. I was never happier than when I was with my grandfather on the golf course.

I joined my first golf club at age 14. With a lofty handicap of 37. 6 months later I was bringing home prizes in the "Tuesday Club" - a collection of retired golfers playing at Blackheath - winning frozen chickens (don't ask). At 15 I played in my first junior pennants - handicap 25. At 16 I won my first handicap club championship. At 17 I won the club championship for scratch, and by 18 I was playing off scratch and had won my first all ages golf tournament with what was arguably my best golf shot I have ever played to this day (Think Final hole, 1 shot behind - birdie to tie and force playoff - eagle to win. Howling wind, rain - I end up driving the Par 4 green in one and holing the eagle putt to win). Every step of the way - my grandfather was there. Always quick to offer encouragement, and to give me support as I grew as a player and as a person.

Then came university, and work. The game I loved so dearly - and had spent so many endless hours perfecting found itself playing second fiddle. I just didn't have the 10+ hours a week to practice, or entire weekends to spend playing. Slowly but surely it faded, until I was relegated to playing the occasional work golf day. I never played golf with my grandfather again, and he passed away in 2009. Ever since, I just haven't been able to bring myself to play.

This part of my life has become a void which has never been filled. I had always wondered where it may have taken me if I had ventured down that path. Or if I had just made the effort to spend more time to play golf with my grandfather.

Last night I had the most profound dream that has once again made we wonder. I was back at Blackheath golf club with my grandfather, I can remember how great it felt to see him again - it felt so real, I could smell the grass, and feel the cold morning air in my lungs. We were playing the 7th Hole and I had a very difficult shot to attempt, I knew what I needed to do, I could see it in my head but I wasn't sure if I still could, it had been so long.. I swung hard and the ball arced gracefully towards the green, stopping close to the hole. I turned to my grandfather and he smiled at me and said "Its amazing how you never forget, it always comes back to you. You just have to give it a chance.". He slapped his hand on my shoulder and we then turned and walked off towards the hole together.

Was this a message? Was this simply a dream, or was this some sort of ghost email. Perhaps it was just my inner voice telling me to return once more to something that I once loved, and need to love again.

I just want a chance to recapture some of that joy that I once felt, for a game taught to me by the greatest man I have ever met.

Death of a Man Shoe

Today, at approximately 5:35pm AEST I suffered the tragic loss of a man shoe. My kickass rustic man shoe colorado boot. Man shoe #1 leaves behind his surviving brother man shoe #2 who is quite clearly distraught and is now in an extended period of man shoe brother mourning.

In a horrible twist of fate, man shoe #1 split in two leaving his bottom rubbery err bottom flopping around like a dead fish. Cut down in his prime. Forced to endure an agonising death march home - I now realise what pain girls go through with broken heels. Stay strong sisters!

This leaves me with a dilema. Poor old man shoe #2 is still in tip top shape. In this heartless consumer driven world, shoe #2 has no place. And he will be relegated to the junk pile while still in the heart of his shoey life. Or will he? Can we find a use for shoe #2?

• Throwing at politicians during press conferences? He is nice, heavy and sturdy and would pack quite a punch if aimed correctly.
  
  
• Sole shoe for a peg legged pirate? They are manly and pirate like, in a non pirate sort of way.
  
  
  
  
• House for a really small family of elves or pixies. It has a nice "musky" aroma and plenty of space. Its sturdy construction is also great for repelling raids by gnomes, trolls or other fairy-esque creatures.
  
  
• Perhaps some sort of Hobo Apparel. Or maybe some sort of new Kitch fashion trend. Mismatched shoes - don't let the conformity factory keep you down people!
  
  
• Ballast for any type of ship - preferably a tramp steamer (No reason why - it just sounds cool)
  
  
• Other miscellaneous suggestions?

Comon - lets give this poor shoe a chance people. I believe in the shoe!

Holidays

Guess what meatbags, I'm on holidays!

Huzzah! Huzzah!

Ok, carry on.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Holidays approaching

It's that time of the decade, I'm taking holidays. 3.5 weeks of R&R. Unprecedented, yes I know. I can't wait to unplug my brain for a while and let it cool down.

In the spirit of the occasion I have decided not to even check my email for the duration. Ye gods man, you will surely kill us all. Ah well, shit happens.

Catchy on the flipside Brodie dude!


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone