Old Age, Gender and Physical Activity "Strength is Health”: George Barker Windship Health Through Sport How to Train the Body for Health and Poise Medicine, Science and Sport The Bicycle and Tricycle as Aids to Health and Recreation Passive Smoking What is Strength? Health Insurance Decisions What Makes Man a Sprinter? What to Fish for in February? Sport and its Economic and Social Importance Use of Weights for Health Does Ageing Drive Health Expenditures Medicare: Policy Issues Indoor Training for Outdoor Sport Starting and Starters Insured versus Not Insured Babylonian Astrology The Wrath of Heaven The Displaced Zodiac and the Beginnings of Astronomy The Duty of the Son of Heaven: Orientation Time Was Once Relative	A Few Golf Maxims All is not golf that putters. Out of the fullness of the swing the ball speedeth. Be sure of your green then putt ahead. Wrath goeth before a foozle and a contentious spirit before a sclaff. There's many a slip 'twixt tee and lip. Players drawing the long bow shouldn't throw cold water. Coming bunkers cast their shudders before. Long drives do not make the golfer nor want of them the duffer. Spare the sand and spoil the shot. An ounce of follow through is worth a pound of hit. By their waggle ye shall know them. A swipe on the green is worth two in the gorse. It's a long ball that has no turning. Better a lost ball in the rain and a contented maid therewith than a dinner in the club-house without camaraderie. The straightest way round is the quickest way home. A duffer is known by the score he keeps. It takes all sorts of people to make up a world, including those who figure you are interested in hearing a detailed description of every shot they have played during the afternoon. He looked at the ball with a beady squint; He whaled away with his eyes aglint; But the words he spoke When the cleek shaft broke, Were not, alas! of the sort we print. Sometimes it's the stance—sometimes it's the grip, Sometimes it's the swing over which we trip; But whatever it is—hear the Golf Clan sing To the tune of "There's always some d—— thing." WINTER GOWF Auld rantin' roarin' western win', "Thou breath o' autumn's bein'," Wha smairts ma een an maks me blin' An' sick tae death o' teein', Whoo come ye noo sae fierce an' raw Tae ben thae slender cleekies, An' whustle wi' an angry blaw Richt through ma roomy breekies On sic' a day? Fower ba's this aifternoon we've lost Through you, ye blusterin' heathen, An' when a' coont the awfu' cost It sets ma bosom seethin'. A'm no the man, ye ken, tae swear At ony minor evil, But noo a'm fain tae dae it here Jist like the verra deevil Does ony day. Twice we hae tried tae gang aroun', But ye were jist that cuttin', A' couldna drive a' aiternoon, An' had nae chance o' puttin'; And aft I'd see ma bunkered ba', An' try in vain tae whack it, A' simply couldna play at a'; A' ne'er was sae distrackit For mony a day.