So here I am on a Tuesday morning at 10.30am, playing golf in the back garden with Andrew. (I'm grooming him for the 2025 Ryder Cup). And I have this momentary moment of anxiety - why am I not in an office like a normal guy? What about our future? Shouldn't I be finding out the cost of apartments in Budapest or something? Then the wave of anxiety recedes as I get just pure pleasure from seeing the face of glee in Andrew as he whacks his ball with aplomb against a tree...
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