There’s no avoiding the ageing process. Unless, of course, you’re Sir Cliff Richard, whose use of an elaborate array of moisturisers, grouts, elixirs, joists and a cast iron truss will no doubt have him posing seductively for annual calendars well into his 137th year.
As for us mere mortals? Well, as I shuffled, skited and doddered along the ice the other day, with all the elegance of Frankenstein’s monster trying to recreate Torvill & Dean’s Bolero, my thoughts turned to an exchange among colleagues on the subject of our advancing years. “I think Nick must be pushing 47,” suggested a younger associate. “Good grief, he looks like he’s dragging it,” replied the sports editor with a withering snort.
It's been a sair auld fecht. In the golfing world, meanwhile, the fight goes on for supremacy in the professional game’s upper echelons. Yes, I know you’re probably sick to the back teeth of hearing about LIV Golf this and LIV Golf that but a recent New York Times report on confidential documents relating to a LIV blueprint devised by a consultancy firm shed some intriguing light on the Saudi Arabian quest to build a profitable, robust breakaway league.
