European Cup:  'That's why no one drives decent cars here. You can't use a decent car," laughs Shaun Payne, bemoaning the torturously slow commute from his home near Limerick to the training ground in Musgrave Park.

Charleville, Buttevant, Mallow: the narrow country roads dense with heavy, articulated lorries and frustrated motorists must seem oppressive to someone used to the limitless space of the South African veldt. But the soul-destroying traffic is about the only gripe the Munster fullback has about life in Ireland and only a saint could avoid cursing that particular nuisance.

In the grander scheme of things, it is a minor grumble. Having signed a further one-year contract, the 33-year-old is adamant Munster will be the club for whom he takes his final bow. After that, he and his wife, Michelle, will weigh up the options of whether to return to South Africa or make a home in Killaloe, which they discovered through Anthony Foley and have found to be an idyll.

"Yeah, I will finish my career here, full stop," he clarifies with a smile.

"I suppose we are lucky in terms of having dual citizenship and, to be completely honest, we are so 50-50 at the moment. Whatever way we do go it will have to be permanent because once our kids start school we can't be shifting around. It's a bit unsettling, to be honest.

"And you're always a little unsure about what could happen in South Africa. At the moment it seems really stable but there is always the element of doubt. So I don't know. It's up in the air."

But it is a healthy personal dilemma. Friendly and obliging by nature, Payne projects the clear sense that this late stage of his career has been the most fulfilling. His versatility - his first-choice position would be on the right wing but he is comfortable at centre and currently has the fullback spot locked down - has made him a popular and consistent performer for one of the most high-profile club teams in the world. And he is genuine and enthusiastic when validating the old chestnut that, as a rugby club and a concept, Munster is "unique".

"No, no, no, there is no doubt. There is nothing like it," he says, looking around the prefabricated canteen where we sit as if to illustrate the point. It is one of those draughty days of imminent rain in Cork, which is tuning up for the jazz festival. Training is over in Musgrave Park and the old Dolphin clubhouse is sleepy, except for Foley, who is patiently waiting to grab lunch with Payne. Whenever with Munster, even on the eve of massive, must-win Thomond Saturdays, there is never any great panic.

"There is just this spirit," Payne says. "Firstly the support and the commitment of the support is mind-boggling. No way you would get 10,000 to away games in South Africa. South Africans can be fair-weather - literally. If it's raining, they won't go.

"And then you have this bunch of Munster lads who came up through the Munster system together and make it very special. Rog, Frankie, Axel - ah, I'm not going to go through the whole list in case I miss someone. Everyone knows them at this stage. But I think you find in great teams that groups like that come through together from one generation."

It is an atmosphere that appeals to the companionable side of Payne and also a situation of which he is appreciative. One of his theories is that to play rugby at an elite level requires a degree of good fortune.

When he reviews his career, his landing at Munster was not exactly a miracle but it could easily not have happened. Payne's age makes his progression through rugby's evolution from amateur to professional all the more fascinating.

Although he can hunt down players like Gavin Henson and the other young Turks who have glamorised the Six Nations and Heineken European Cup in the past few seasons, he is light years removed from them in terms of attitude and spirit.

Perhaps a part of that stems from growing up as a child of apartheid in 1970s South Africa. Although he is naturally proud of the strides his home country has made in the past decade, he talks of his formative years with a degree of mystification and a keen desire to convey just how topsy-turvy the experience was for an ordinary white boy then.

"When I was born in South Africa, apartheid was in full swing and, to be honest, because you grew up with it, you didn't see anything wrong when you saw a sign at the beach reading, 'Whites only'. And I know that must sound very strange today. It was in my teenage years the rioting started and there were embargoes, everyone was beginning to realise how wrong it was. I mean, when you look back, of course, it was so seriously wrong but when you were growing up in the midst of it, you almost didn't notice it.

"And don't forget, the South African press couldn't really report on what was going on then. So much so that it was hard to understand why there were sanctions against the country and things like that.

"Just as I was leaving school, the reforms came, and when I was in college in Durban, yeah, I had a strong consciousness of what was happening. It was a fascinating, scary time. I mean, a million people marching through Durban and Jo'burg.

"Things could have gone either way before the 1994 elections. The country could have very easily descended into chaos. And that it didn't I think is mainly down to Nelson Mandela."

Of course, the sight of Mandela with Francois Pienaar after South Africa's emotional and predestined 1995 World Cup triumph became one of the most powerful symbols of hope and unity for the new order. By then, Payne was already a rising star on the Springboks Sevens team that went to Hong Kong.

He regards his selection by Ian McIntosh for a provincial sevens tournament in Stellenbosch as the most important slice of luck in his rugby career. He had only just broken through from the Natal Sharks' under-21 scene, delighted to be offered a contract just as professional rugby union was staggering to its feet.

"See, I was lucky. I just came out of the under-21 scene with the Sharks and just as the whole thing went professional I was brought into the senior squad and offered a contract. Before then, there were brown envelopes and, umm, 'travelling expenses' for some guys. But to get an official contract was great.

"In a place like South Africa, with a vast pool of players, you have to be lucky and take your chance."

He shone to such an extent that he was spoken of as a future Springbok. But that never happened. International fare has eluded the accomplished and versatile back. Perhaps that has been his stroke of bad luck?

"I can't give an answer to that," he apologises. "I have asked myself that question. I think personally if I had played then with more confidence, I might have had a chance. As I got older, I learned to handle situations better and maybe then, yeah, I think I could have got a chance or two. But I wouldn't say I was unlucky given the standard of my performances then. Maybe I undersold myself."

It is not a lingering regret. He knows plenty of talented players who just got swallowed up by the sheer vastness of South Africa and the merciless turnover of talent. And others, like his friend Percy Montgomery, who seemed to have some kind of knack for wearing the famous green and gold shirt through thick and thin.

"Percy's done well," Payne laughs. "Put it that way. He has done well."

Although he knew that by travelling to the Northern Hemisphere he was closing the door on any potential call-up to the Springboks squad, Payne has no regrets. Munster games are as rich as they come.

He thinks of his colleague and friend Christian Cullen - "who was, and is, the best attacking player I ever had the privilege to play against" - sitting in Douglas with his arm in a sling and thanks his blessings.

He shakes his head at the mention of last week's loss to Sale, which means today's return of Castres to Thomond has Limerick city trembling in anticipation. Thomond is magical but perhaps it is a double-edged sword in that however well Munster play away, they miss that irresistible push, that aura of invincibility the old ground bestows upon them.

Payne thinks about this for a second.

"I think Munster do play well away from home. I do take the point. But I think the real pressure comes in not losing at home. Thomond is incredible, an honour to play there, and because of that at the back of your mind is that dread of losing one.

"That's why this game against Castres, a really dangerous team, losing is simply not an option. I have played Castres twice now. I was poor against them over there and then last year we tore through them in a bit of an ill-tempered game. But they are a quality side and we need to make up for last week.

"I felt in Sale it was two mistakes and two tries. And we didn't play that well, to be honest. We worked hard. I felt (Charlie) Hodgson played good.

"It was quite a frustrating game at fullback for me, to see the ball bouncing into touch the whole time. But they exercised their options very well, I thought. And fair play to them."

And with that gentlemanly salute, he bounds up to meet his captain for a sandwich, checking first to see if he could be of any more help in any way.

Thirty-three years old and loving this winter of rugby - there is an effervescence about Shaun Payne that not even the toughest days onfield have managed to lessen. Of course, the 30-minute tailback at the Kinsale roundabout is another matter.