My friendship with Christy O'Connor Snr goes back more than 35 years and has been strengthened greatly by our involvement in the Links Society since its launch in 1966. Our friendship has survived all sorts of ups and downs, including a totally innocent comment by my wife Pauline, who said to him on one occasion: "Judging by the way you putted today, you were obviously protecting your handicap."

In that time, I have been fortunate to play with Senior in countless team events. Yet a very special memory concerns the time I caddied for him - in the 1979 British Open at Royal Lytham.

He qualified by winning the PGA Seniors and as things turned out, it would be his 35th and last Open. And it was a worthy swansong as he shot rounds of 79, 73, 71, 76 for a share of 37th place behind Seve Ballesteros.

Knowing that I hadn't been able to play the game because of open heart surgery a year previously, he asked if I'd be interested in pulling his clubs at Lytham. Pulling was the operative word because in my physical condition, I had no option other than to use a trolley.

I must be one of the few caddies not to have carried clubs over four rounds of the Open and it led to a few smart remarks from Irish people who were over there as spectators. But I was really mortified when, in the middle of the 18th fairway, the comedian Eddie Large shouted from be- hind the ropes: "Hey, Cecil, you left Frank the wrong invitation. It was marked Nicklaus."

That had to do with invitations to celebrities for the Christy O'Connor Pro-am and I had delivered Frank Carson's to the theatre in Blackpool where he was topping the bill. Of course Eddie Large was only kidding me, but I wished he had picked a more private place to have some fun at my expense.

Anyway, in the first two rounds at Lytham, Senior was partnered by Roberto de Vicenzo and Antonio Garrido and we were going along nicely on the opening day until we came to the short 12th (198 yards). It was into the wind and Roberto proceeded to hit two balls out of bounds.

Senior, who was one under at the time, said to me on the tee: "It's a four iron, right?" I nodded. Next thing the ball was dropping about 30 yards short of the green and the flag was tucked in beyond the bunker. Typically, Senior tried to finesse a pitch to the pin but it landed in the trap and after exploding to two feet, he proceeded to missed the putt to finish with a five. Roberto had a seven.

There wasn't a word from Senior going to the next tee. In fact, he said nothing about it until we were having dinner that night. "You were wrong with that club at the 12th," he said. "We were wrong," I corrected him.

He then questioned why I hadn't known that Roberto hit a two iron and he was at least a club longer than Senior. Incidentally, I discovered this to be true when we played the 17th (462 yards) where Senior needed a four-iron second shot whereas Roberto hit only a six iron.

I then told Senior that he could have made a handy four at the hole if he had played a safe pitch rather than attack the flag. Now he turned on me saying: "Do you really think I could do that and have you tell people afterwards that I played safe with a pitch?" I sensed he was half joking but wholly in earnest.

Later that year, I felt strong enough for serious golf once more and we headed for Portugal for a team event at Vale de Lobo. Our team was Senior, Shay Smith, myself and the late Mal Deveney and Senior thought so much of our chances that he bet a German in one of the other teams that at worst, we'd shoot 30-under- par (best ball) for the three rounds.

As things turned out, we were 27- under after two days and went on to win in a canter. In the process, I got yet another lesson in his timeless skills.

On the dog-leg ninth hole, I caught a really good one off the tee and finished about 30 yards ahead of Senior, who was playing the big ball. But after our approaches, I was left of the green from where I took a pitch and two putts to make a bogey, whereas he hit his second to two feet for a tap-in birdie.

Lytham had been a wonderful experience, but there was no substitute for sharing the fairways with him as a player - even if it meant being hum- bled by his talent.