Our columnist imagines being in Tiger Woods' shoes and pens down what the golfing star might be going through.
Thanksgiving a red-letter day
Our columnist imagines being in Tiger Woods' shoes and pens down what the golfing star might be going through
Well, another Thanksgiving is upon us. "So soon!" I hear you cry, "It feels like I only just vacuumed the windshield off the back seat from last year!"
I am afraid so. The world has turned, the seasons have passed, the fields are barren once more after yielding their fruitful harvest. Even the fresh gloss paint on that fire hydrant has lost its early lustre. And here we all are: a little older, a little greyer, a little more familiar with how to work a microwave oven - did you know they also broil now? - and only about US$100million (Dh367.3m) poorer.
To be honest, I was not looking forward to writing the Woods family Thanksgiving letter.
Letter-writing was always Elin's thing (I preferred to text), so I would usually leave her scribbling away while I dashed out and played a round. Or sometimes I played golf.
Still, I guess it could have been worse. There are fewer letters for me to write this year, and I'll save more than a few bucks on mail charges to Sweden. (They charge so much, anyone would think that Scandinavia is, like, another country).
Also, the guys at Accenture, AT&T and Gatorade are off the list. In fact, just to really make a point, I have stopped patronising any firm which ceased to sponsor me this year.
I no longer make phone calls or send text messages via AT&T, nor indeed any other phone network, (that was more Dr Hermann's idea than mine). I no longer buy Gatorade but instead brew my own version, Tigerade (Elin's old temperature-controlled closet makes the perfect cellar).
And, just as soon as someone explains to me exactly what Accenture does, I will stop using their services, too. Seriously, are they, like, accountants, or something?
On the other hand, I do have a few extra letters to send this year. My dry cleaner, for one. Getting both blood and mashed yams out of Italian suede leather is never easy. Bubba, of Bubba's Auto Truck and Windshield Repairs, also gets a special mention for interrupting his own Thanksgiving Day. (Sorry again Bubba, and by the way, the Cowboys won 24-7).
But, most of all, I'll be writing to Dr Hermann and all the good folks at the Pine Grove Behavioural Health and Addiction Clinic, where I vacationed in January. It is lovely hotel but not one for honeymooners, as they are really quite strict on the whole "no double rooms" thing.
Dr Hermann loves to receive letters from former guests, but he makes us promise that we'll get someone else to lick the stamp.
Yes, it has been a tough year but I feel I still have much to be thankful for.
I am thankful for my friends and family.
I am thankful for my talent. I am thankful for my agent and my accountant (unless, of course, they are from Accenture).
I am thankful that Dominoes Pizza delivers 24/7.
I am thankful that the futon in our spare room is comfier than it looks.
But most of all I am thankful that golf needs me more than I need golf, which is why they will forgive me anything. Oh yes, and I'm very thankful that Elin let me keep my balls. Nike One Blacks cost $40 per pack, and I really need to practice.