One of my last appearances in the Irish Open was at Killarney in 1991. And I was so excited about finally getting to play this legendary course, that I proceeded to top my drive off the first tee.

The ball just carried the little harbour in front of the tee and finished in the rough on the left. Because I was so nervous, I had decided to hit a three wood rather than a driver, which made it all the more embarrassing. Yet I almost got away with a par at the hole.

Feeling really angry with myself, I went sheepishly to the ball while the gallery were no doubt wondering what a duffer like me was doing in such a big event. But after pitching out onto the fairway, I knocked the ball to within eight feet of the flag and almost holed the putt.

I remember thinking afterwards that it would have been a great par. But after such a start, I reckon I did well to complete a level-par round of 72, even if I went on to finish down the field.

I've got some lovely memories of Portmarnock, where I first played in 1979 and actually finished 16th behind Seve in 1986. For some- body like me, who was very much a journeyman pro at that time, it was a huge thrill to come into such an important tournament and have those wonderful spectators make you feel so big and important.

There was the excitement of having hordes of kids, asking for a ball or an autograph. I miss the excitement of those days, where there seemed to be a much gentler innocence about the kids, than the screaming youngsters you get at events these days.

Indeed the years at Portmarnock and Royal Dublin made such an impression on me that when I was asked which tournament I would like to win, other than the (British) Open, I had no hesitation in picking the Irish Open, because of the accessibility of the event to ordinary people and how much they seemed to enjoy it.

That was before the big courses came along paying money to stage the tournament, which is the norm nowadays. You got the feeling in those days that the courses were for the people, with bed and breakfast around the corner for five and a half quid and a wonderful pub close by. I was glad I was involved back then.

But as things turned out, my biggest moment in golf came not in the Irish Open but on the last hole of the European Open at Walton Heath in 1989. To win the title, I needed a six iron crisply struck into the middle of the green and then two putts. And I did it, with two putts from 12 feet. That was hugely magical.

Ten years have passed since then, but it remains very meaningful for me, which I suppose is only right, given its importance to my career. Indeed I can still remember vividly the way I placed the ball before holing the winning putt.

I had ongoing hip problems even at that time, which prevented me from playing with any level of consistency for the next two or three years. But I managed to get through it, though it now looks as if I'm going to have surgery later this year.

Anyway, I remember there was a lot of celebrating to be done after the European Open, but I was still delighted to be back in action the following week. The tournament was the Lancome Trophy and it was a great thrill to be there as a newly-crowned champion, playing in the company of Sam Torrance and Mark McNulty.

Because of all the partying at home, however, I was forced to pull out of the pre-tournament pro-am. So I walked onto the first tee at St Nom-la-Breteche, with no previous knowledge of the course. And I proceeded to shoot a seven-under-par 64.

There was one very special moment when I holed out my second shot at the ninth. It was a drive and wedge hole and I pitched it 114 yards - I can remember every detail to this day. The flag was actually at 113 yards and the ball screwed back into the hole for a two, leaving me six under par for the front nine.

I was on cloud nine. And I remember Sam saying to me: "You've no need to use the bridge over the water; just walk straight across." Eduardo Romero went on to win the tournament but that front nine was a fantastic experience.

Yet isn't it just typical of golf, that a player who could play the opening nine of an important tournament in 30 strokes, could then suffer the embarrassment two years later, of knocking down his opening drive. So when the magic happens, we must cherish the moment.