Caddie's Role: Last Friday was a pretty normal end of the working week for most people and for me, a golf caddie doing the best I could to ensure I actually get to work on the weekend. Being a holiday weekend in the UK, many were making plans to be as far away from work as they could be. For those of us on the golf tour weekend work is a good thing, it can be well paid overtime.

I got to the course at about 7am for an 8.45 tee time. There are not many mornings that permit you to dine alfresco in Blighty at 7am but I went to the caddie-shack , "Stevenson's Rocket", ordered cereal, tea and toast and sat at an outdoor table surrounded by rhododendrons, and the rich foliage that makes Wentworth such a beautiful place to be in late spring.

The birds on the branches above me sung a tuneful, relaxing melody which coupled with the pleasant surroundings made me think caddying was not such a bad job after all.

I went to the PGA office for a pin sheet so I could mark in my yardage book where the holes were cut for the second round and try to eliminate surprises on the course. I then went next door to the Tour's friendly weather people for the forecasted conditions for the day ahead.

The meteorologists confirmed it was going to get up to 30 degrees with a chance of thunder later in the day. The wind was not going to be strong and would vary from east to south. This is always a concern for a caddie on a course like the West at Wentworth. You see the wind can be very slippery around the Burma Road. Most of the holes run in different directions and are surrounded by tall trees. So you can never tell for sure which way the wind is blowing. It also swirls viciously in the tunnels which most fairways are so, even if you think you know where the wind is, chances are by the time your player hits his shot it's not where you thought it was.

I moved on to the locker-room and got the bag ready, stocked it with balls and made sure the rain gear and umbrella were still on board. Even though it shouldn't rain, it is, after all, the British Isles and an unexpected soaking would not go down very well with a player who employs you for your professionalism.

In the upper sanctum of the locker-room players were receiving pre-round attention from their physiotherapists. There is still an elitist system in operation at Wentworth. Us players and caddies considered to belong to this elite group get to use the upstairs locker-room which is both spacious and unused by anyone else. The rest are downstairs, in a very comfortable room, which is a little more cluttered.

I joined Retief (Goosen) on the range. He had been breakfasting in the players lounge, a marquee just beside the practice area where apparently the bacon was being cut off the bone and the coffee freshly brewed. We began our pre-round routine of Retief warming up by hitting a few wedges to start and working his way through the bag.

Meanwhile, I was behind the bag carrying out menial tasks like cleaning the grips and making sure the balls he was hitting were clean and dry. I was also checking the wind direction - I have a compass reading of the range and always gauge the wind direction over the 45-minute warm-up session. Then when I look at my course yardage book where I have compass readings drawn on each hole, I try to match them up. This is not so simple in Wentworth. I also keep a eye on my boss's alignment to see he is where he wants to be over the ball.

Ken Brown , the TV commentator, sidled over to us; being the diligent announcer he is, he is always trying to dig up anything that may be of interest during the day's broadcast. I never remember seeing Peter Alliss or Alex Hay doing much of this background work, which frequently makes them talk like they are stuck in the past, because they don't seem to have an interest in exploring or trying to understand the present.

We stepped on to the first tee with Darren Clarke and Thomas Levet. Ivor, the official starter, cleared his throat to indicate that we are about to tee off.

Darren had his mind on the illness of his wife. Thomas was his usual clowning self, jovial and animated as only a person from further south in Europe could be. We joked about the expression golfers use when one of their playing partners hits a good shot. Many English players say "lovely shot". There is an expression in French which sounds just like "lovely shot" but means "clean the toilets" when translated.

So the day marched on. I carried the bag, recited numbers to Retief and added my words of wisdom when I felt it appropriate. Unfortunately, he listened to me on the eighth hole when I suggested the wind was hurting therefore he should hit a soft eight-iron instead of a nine. He ended up over 10 yards past the pin. Whoops. Billy Foster, Darren's caddie had a laugh as I received a mild berating of "what are we doing Colin?" as Retief knocked his 30-foot putt eight feet past the hole. If he was a more animated player, there would be far stronger words aimed as his porter. Lucky me.

We arrived back at the clubhouse at two under par. I went back to where I ate breakfast and had lunch, by which time you needed to sit in the shade of an umbrella. I went back to the range to watch Retief hit a few buckets of balls in the glorious afternoon sunshine. I talked to some of my boss's management team about plans. We both chatted to Jeff Hawkes, the ex-tour player, who was telling us about the project he has sunk his life savings into. It sounded like another golf gadget, but who knows what's going to grab people's attentions? I talked to the BMW tournament director, Marco Kaussler, about the set up of the tournament.

Philip Parkin, working for the Golf Channel, wanted Retief to describe on air his most memorable four. I jogged his memory about the improbable par he made in the final round of the US Open last year on the 13th.

A little more short-game practice later, I drove my boss's Porsche up to the gym so he could jump straight out of the fitness centre and into his car. There seems to be no limit to a caddie's duties.

I headed out of the course at about 4.45pm and down to a cafe at Virginia Water to meet a colleague for a late-afternoon coffee boost. By the time I left, it was rush hour in Virginia Water. I was trying to turn right on to the main road. I must have waited for five minutes and not one car yielded.

In the sixth minute a swanky-looking black Bentley created some space for me. I noted the registration as I pulled out deferentially, "3 PUT". The traffic was moving slowly enough for me to recognise the driver of the large automobile. It was Peter Alliss. I take back all I ever said about Mr Alliss. He can stay in his golfing past if his impeccable driving manners remain as they are . He is now my favourite golf announcer. Nostalgia is good when it comes to road etiquette.