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For a quarter of a century, my attempts to master this infuriating game have punished sacred turf worldwide. On my local range, a 10-year-old girl demonstrated a swing as fluent as Rory McIlroy's. On the other side of the partition, I released my inner mad axe woman in an all too familiar flail. What I love is golf's rich diversity. At home, Scotsmen created the most glorious of courses, selflessly sharing their know how wherever they travelled as engineers or soldiers of Empire. Think Pakistan, Argentina, Australia, the Cook Islands, even Japan, countries where centenarian classic sward has been vandalised by my obsession with the dimpled tyrant.

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