Anyone who has had children knows that frustrations inevitably creep into family life. Sometimes children can be more or less jealous of their brothers and sisters. And it’s usually the parents’ unintentionally clumsy behaviour that’s to blame.

I’ve already told you about my driver who doesn’t like stickers.

This driver is often unruly, which means I have to spend a lot of time looking after him. I have to constantly keep him in line so he doesn’t stray too far from the straight and narrow. Otherwise, who knows what wrong turns he might be capable of taking…

Whereas my putter has been the model pupil of the family ever since I first took up golf.

He’s the one who always does his job properly, never skives off, follows the rules and sticks to perfectly straight lines.

We expect him to be well-behaved and obedient, and he is.

For nearly 20 years now, he’s maintained an impeccable attitude in all circumstances.

Whilst his younger brother, the driver – who is much younger – does as he pleases, my putter never disappoints.

He makes no noise, caresses the balls very gently, and guides them gently to the hole, leaving the indiscipline and whimsy to his cheeky little brother.

The injustice is that, as in all families, everyone drools over the occasional exploits of the younger one, whilst finding the elder’s sound and straightforward demeanour mundane and insignificant.

And I suppose that from time to time a sense of injustice and a lack of attention creeps into his mind.

When children suppress these kinds of feelings for too long, one day the dam bursts and they can no longer hold back the rebellion that is building up.

That is undoubtedly what happened to my putter almost three years ago. Suddenly, from one day to the next, it became very erratic as soon as I picked it up, veering off in all directions to stray from even the simplest and shortest lines, resulting in improbable three or even four-putts on every green.

Once the initial surprise had passed, I spent a long time looking for solutions. After devoting much more time to looking after it, trying to reassure it, and experimenting with different strokes and touches, we were able to re-establish our connection, without shouting or anger.

I must have been convincing enough for our relationship to gradually return to what it had been over those many years.

It took many long months.

To make him feel more loved, I also gave him new responsibilities, taking him with me into the sand of the bunkers, onto the approach greens further and further from the hole, and sometimes for walks in the woods, as I explained in another piece some time ago.

Today my putter seems happy again and faithfully helps me to judge lines and distances that are close to perfection, and my average number of putts is slowly falling back below 36.

“Patience and time achieve more than strength or rage.”