Sometimes the language of sport borrows from the language of war and, as writer George Orwell once said, sport is war without bullets.
It's survival of the fittest in sport - fit as in physically fit, mentally fit and, last but not least, emotionally fit.
Finding golf interesting to watch was always a sign of old-fogeyism.
This week I've noticed that governance and management are ongoing issues with activities in which I've been involved.
While I was away my partner fell in love - with MySky, the ultimate remote toy for men.
It's true what they say: absence makes the heart grow fonder.
I feel isolated from New Zealand sport here in Scotland and get my fix by surfing the 'net to find out what is going on in the great little sporting nation that tends to box above its weight.
Recently, Ngati Toa, as part of its treaty settlement, got the New Zealand Government to acknowledge authorship and significance of the Ka Mate haka to Ngati Toa.
It's ice-cream-eating heaven in the Land of the Long White Cloud and ice-cream headache time in London.
Crying, empathy, flowers, parental leave, dressing up, fun and frivolity, underdogs, black tie dinners, and winners.
What are Stacey Jones and Tana Umaga thinking about right now - the good old days when they were revered as elite professional athletes, as "Ooh-ah Umaga" and the "Little General"?
When I left New Zealand, the economic crisis was talked about at arm's length but here in Scotland, it is right under my nose and it stinks (and I'm sure it's getting stinkier in New Zealand, too).