It's raining. Not the most revelatory admission, only it's raining here in Dubai. The water is evaporating as fast as it is falling, with a heavy fat thump. I'm wearing a pullover, and, dare I say it? It's possibly a little chilly this morning. Having said that, Yesterday afternoon gave way to fierce but pleasurable warm sun. And, I expect it will do the same Today. Clouds aren't common here, and rain has a kinda full moon effect on the locals, chattering excitedly like screeching chimps in a cage. I played golf yesterday. Every blade of grass was perfect, the sun sparkled off the man-made lakes, with the mechanically generated ripples. But, try asking the parrots & peacocks if they care about that.
I sat afterwards, under the shade of dusty desert trees, drinking very cold beer on iron garden furniture. Tiger Woods does exactly the same thing I am doing now, only last year according to the club's social secretary who I am presently talking to. He is treating me with respect. Like I am somebody important. I'm not, but there is no way I'm telling him directly. Instead I joke with him about the rain this morning, and discuss the possibility of snow.
To ease my lying conscience, I show him a photograph on my camera of hills, fog, snow and tired hill walkers with anoraks and cold rosy cheeks. I express that this was only 24 hours ago, and I'm feeling pretty giddy with the contrast of the two scenarios so close together, yet so far apart. I flick the thought back and forth in my head, and it broadens my smile. I collect myself for a moment and beam at club sec's cheek aching smile and disbelief at my photographs. Astonished eyes and "Jesus Christ!" utterances. He's never been to such a place.
We talk about municipal courses in the UK, mud, rain & winter greens. Overalls, boots & umbrellas. Ali pokes my inherently negative brain with the suggestion that sparseness, variation and differentiation being the  defining attraction to English courses. It's entertainingly attractive to Ali the Millionaire. It's a novelty. But, I can't quite see through the Lowry like drudgery and old TK Maxx golf clothing in my head. I'm in the club now, I'm part of the social circle, and I utter to Ali "Sincerely, in truth, I could happily spend everyday of my remaining life hitting balls around this course." Then, I realise what I've just said, and my emphasis on could. I know my immediate realised future lies in moaning, and trying to change the place I live in. Misery. Ali gives me a "Thank you Ben, see you again.". He seems sincere, he calls me by my first name. I'm clearly being part of the great wealthy hustle - What do you do? How much do you earn? What is your value, and how can I take a slice? I leave.