Washington Road, the main thoroughfare to the Augusta National Golf Club looked like a car-park. There was a jam which resulted in making a marathon journey out of what should have been a quick jaunt. Forty minutes later I find myself in the caddie shack, looking for the painters-and-decorators uniform or the caddies' dehumanising boiler suit unique to the Masters tournament.

Fortunately, my player Paul Lawrie is coming from the same direction as I am, so he arrives later than me. The first rule of caddying; you can be late but not as late as your employer.

You might have thought that you were a keen golfer. Come here and you will witness fanaticism. A big-haired American woman squealed at me in an inimitable, overpowering Southern drawl "Who y'all caddie fa? Can I have a picta widya?

Embarrassed and somewhat intimidated by the hair if not the accent, I declined the photo call, mumbling late and traffic and an awaiting player.

Tuesday, April 3rd

A 9.0 a.m. rendez-vous with Lawrie, so I leave 45 minutes for the supposed five-minute trip. Confident that I have cracked the heavy traffic syndrome, I find myself side-stepping through the gallery beside the second fairway (caddies get no preferential parking here) trying to get to my player on time. I arrive at our meeting point outside the back entrance to the locker room at 9.05 a.m. to the sound of the weather warning siren. Saved by default again from a tardy reprimand. Tomorrow I'll be early, I've figured it out.

It rained all morning. We finally get out on the course at about 2.30 a.m. for nine holes. After three holes we catch up with Jack Nicklaus and Greg Norman who are playing with the US amateur runner-up James Driscoll.

Jack shakes hands with both Paul and I, he has respect for everyone. Greg obviously has respect for Jack so he did the same. Jack is relaxed if not playing very well and Norman is unusually affable and Driscoll is booming every shot past the older players as all young players do these days.

Wednesday, April 4th

Cracked the punctuality problem; I didn't have to report for duty until 11.0 a.m. - impossible to be late.

Lawrie's final preparation was a casual ramble around the back nine. Despite yesterday's extensive rainfall the greens were relatively slick. Being on the right side of the pin is of paramount importance at Augusta, given the speed and undulation of the greens. Even if you are chipping, often you are better off than putting from behind many of the pins.

As a caddie, preparation here is difficult. We are only allowed out on the course carrying the bag accompanied by our player. These days, at a regular event, with everyone looking for an edge, most caddies walk the course before their player arrives to check the numbers and the green drawings in the yardage book. The book is provided by the club. It is made by the same guy who supplies the books on the regular tour in the States. The numbers are good, the green drawings are diabolical (this is where all the action is in Augusta). So, after three practice rounds, I am finally rounding off the artist's rough edges.

The par-three contest took place this afternoon on Augusta's second course, the short one. It is as traditional for every contestant to play as it is a jinx for the winner (this year, Dave Toms) never to win the main event. The regular caddies are very enthusiastic about the par-three contest as it is also customary for friends, sons and daughters to take on the caddie role. This means that most of us got to hand over our painters-and-decorators uniform early and head down to the Post Office for some late deliveries. The said Post Office is the traditional apres-Par-Three watering hole.

Thursday, April 5th

Day one and the shadow boxing is over, the punches today are real and they will draw blood. With an 8.30 a.m. tee time I will not have time, as many caddies traditionally do here, to check the pin positions. The pin sheet provided is not so accurate on every hole, so it is always more reassuring to physically see the pins on the greens.

The crowd have visibly aged since the previous three practice round days. With the life-long waiting lists and random selection procedure for gaining access to this sacred event, it is apparent from the mature crowd that being aged is vital to gaining entry.

It was a trying start for debutant Greg Chalmers from Australia. He pushed his tee shot to the left (he's a leftie) of the first hole and came to rest behind some Georgian pines having knocked a spectator out in the process. After some anxious moments the felled golf enthusiast came to and was carted off in an ambulance. The young Australian composed himself and chose his two iron as the preferred weapon to bend his approach shot round the obstructing trees between him and the first green. He over estimated the bend and ricocheted off three green-side spectators before coming to rest beside the green.

Not even one hole completed and four people down . . . surely the Green Jackets would take a dim view of this dramatic entrance.

Friday, April 6th

After a scrambling opening round of 73 by Lawrie, I anxiously ask the old hand Peter Coleman (Bernhard Langer's caddie of almost 20 years) what we need to shoot to make the cut. One over he replied confidently.

On my way into the course this morning, I noticed a mobile shop offering to rent automated wheelchairs for the day. I was right about the strong old folks' presence here.

Saturday, April 7th

My player has missed the cut at plus five after 36 holes so I got a chance to observe the great event from the other side of the ropes. Spectating is not as easy as you may think at Augusta, there are many demands made of the live viewer here.

Running is not considered acceptable behaviour, therefore if any security guards catch you breaking into a gentle canter you can be sure they will intercept you. Leaning on the gallery ropes and posts is also frowned upon at the National. If you can't see your desired player in action then move on to one of the many designated viewing locations set out in the spectators' guide.

Sunday, April 8th

I departed Augusta at lunchtime today for an evening flight back to Europe from Atlanta. I scoured the car radio along the Interstate 20 heading West, for news of the Masters. It was too early, I had to settle for an Atlanta Braves baseball game against the Florida Marlins. On a tv screen in the airport, I caught a glimpse of Tiger's tee shot drawing nicely around the Azaleas on the 13th hole. At that stage he was 14 under and sharing the lead with Duval, who was on the hole ahead. I was in danger of missing my flight as I heard my name being called as the missing passenger on flight DL116, last and final call.

I had been at Augusta, closer to the action than many golf enthusiasts dream about. But as the back nine drama was unfolding, I was as removed from the Masters as you could possibly be. Monday morning when I landed, my first concern was to find out if I was right to make the obvious assumption about Tiger. Of course I was.