It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a golf club. At least I imagine that is what Jane Austen would have said if she’d been writing social observations for a newspaper in 2025.
Open Instagram at the weekend and you’ll find at least a dozen Stories of boys you went to university with, losing their hair, swinging their arms somewhere in Hertfordshire and shouting things like “nice shot Hugo!”, “beautiful day” or, when things have gone wrong, “rats”.
