The young ‘uns seem to know everything these days. I’m dreading the moment, for instance, when I have to go through the mumbling, stumbling rigmarole of explaining the birds and the bees to my son.

He’ll probably respond with an eye-rolling, nonchalant shrug and say, ‘well done dad, you got most of it right’ as I stand there with the glaikit countenance of Liz Truss after she’s delivered yet another speech of jaw-dropping awkwardness.

I was reminded of my own general nincompoopery the other day when I took the boy and his cousins to that all-singing, all-dancing TopGolf driving range just off the M74.

According to the promotional bumph, the facility has ‘an energetic hum that you can feel as you walk through the door’. It’s just like The Herald’s sports desk. Well, there’s certainly a hum of something.

Anyway, it was a good job the switched-on, clued-up bairns were with me. All the high-tech, gee-whiz golfing gamification was right up their street while I stood staring blankly at the computer module as if I’d been plonked in front of an air traffic control console and told to bring Ryanair flight 3737 from Cork down to a safe landing. The future of golf is here today, folks.

What the future holds, meanwhile, for Charlie Woods remains in the lap of the golfing gods. You may........

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