Rites of passage...

There had to come a time when one of my sons would beat me at golf.

On Saturday, it finally happened, when Sam hammered me (Sammered me?), beating me out of sight at Buckingham.

Of course, he is an absolute bandit and should have been giving me shots - after all, he is 24 and I am 61...

But I have always believed that old age and treachery would defeat youth and ambition - but I was wrong.

None of my strategies worked, and the young 'un just kept knocking the ball in the hole while I missed putts. Putt, putt, putt, and so on!

Next time, we will not play off scratch. He will have to give me shots and we will play for money.

Then we will see what happens.

Bandido!

Back in the UK

Mid afternoon, landed at Heathrow, having seen brilliant October sunshine as we descended, colouring the traditional patchwork field setting of middle England.

My car picked me up and we drove up the motorway system to MK on a perfect autumn day, trees every colour, blending from pale yellow, through gold and red, into dark green.

Two days later, still jetlagged, I had to make a dawn start to catch a train to London for a conference.

As I approached MK city centre, there was a huge orange harvest moon hanging over the hill, like a vast balloon.

The moon at dawn - brilliant!