One of the many things that puzzles me about Donald Trump is why he wanted to be President of the USA in the first place. Although he has had more than his fair share of bankruptcies, he is by any measurement what we poor folk call stinking rich. He doesn’t have to do this, he doesn’t have to do anything, so why does he do it?

I was in my late fifties when I joined the civil service escape committee and opted for a part time job in the charity sector in order to do the things I really wanted to do, like write constantly and play golf whenever possible. I had concluded long ago that every day in full time work was a day I’d lose from the rest of my life. What I’d gain in my pension, I’d draw it for a day less. Time became far more important than money. Now I do write constantly and I play golf whenever possible.

Trump, by contrast, is 70 years old and has just become leader of the free world, which does involve a fair amount of work. He seems to be doing a fair amount of it, attempting to abolish affordable health care for 25 million Americans, stopping funding for birth control, slashing funds for important environment projects and telling lies on just about everything. He’s a busy man but he’s getting a lot of criticism for playing golf, a lot of golf.

Passing up the chance of playing golf on almost every day of your life is where the road to madness begins. As a squillionaire, Trump could play as much golf as he liked on any course on the planet. Cost, which prevents riff raff like me playing the truly world class courses, would be no object to the Donald. But he prefers to be in the limelight, making barking mad speeches and proclamations. How can this be?

I played a round on my own today (ooh er, missus) on a half-decent local course in exchange for 12 British pounds. I realise that my dead end civil service job was not on a par with having access to the nuclear codes but even so, the sense of being in the great outdoors, with only the constant swish of nearby motorway traffic to contend with, was a great deal more enjoyable than tapping away on a computer from 9 to 5, five days a week. Imagine then having the money to play St Andrews or Augusta whenever you wanted to, but instead being confined to a room discussing things you probably weren’t very interested in, like providing health insurance for working class people.

I’d like to think that I am a far nicer, more liberal person than Donald Trump and my only ambitions in life have been to give my children the chances I never had and to support my partner who is the real brains of the operation. Oh, and to write and play golf. I forgot to add that bit.

If you offered me the opportunity between being the next POTUS or having sufficient funds to carry on writing and playing golf, it would be a very simple decision. I’m probably as shit at writing as I am at playing golf but this is not a trial run, it’s life. I don’t understand for the life of me why everyone, not just Trump, isn’t like that. I’m glad they’re not, though. I’d never get a tee time otherwise.