When I heard that the Legends Tour had four tournaments in New Zealand last month I figured it would be good to play there one last time before the place blows up. With my commitment to my readers of “The Last Word”, I figured it would be smart to keep a diary of my exploits. Strap yourself in…..here we go

Terry, Larry, David and the “ladies’ dunny” painting

I don’t know why, but every time I take a trip to the “Shakey Isles” I wind up arguing with the locals. The last time I was there, a big ugly spectator who looked like a cross between Merv Hughes and a Dugong suggested that I should carry the bag and let my caddy, Sandra, play instead. When I pointed to my watch and said, “Lunch time is nearly over mate. You had better get back to the Zoo” he pulled one of those Haka faces and told me he was going to do horrible things to my head.

Anyway, at the risk of being arrested and cavity searched, I suggest to the young customs officer that if I was going to smuggle some kind of serpent into their snakeless country then he should probably be checking my trousers not my shoes. He mumbled something along the lines of “We’re only worried about the dangerous ones” and sent us through.

Monday 9.30 am
North Shore Golf Club in Auckland is the venue for my first competitive round in New Zealand since Richard Hadley shortened his run up.

draw a big friendly Kiwi pro named Garry Watson and two local sponsors in this Pro-Am. One of the amateurs named Bill has one leg in the air when he makes contact and has the biggest slice I have ever seen. He asks me for advice so I change his grip and tell him never to play in shorts. This event may need a new sponsor next year. Queensland’s Mike Ferguson takes the winners cheque.

Tuesday 1pm
It’s become much more serious. We are playing at one of the most prestigious courses in the country and I’ve drawn one of the New Zealand’s favourite golfing sons, Simon Owen. Our amateur partners are Karen, wife of a sheep tycoon and a lawyer named Craig. Auckland Golf Club or Middlemore as the locals call it is in magnificent shape but the wind (wund) is howling. I manage to upset Karen when I ask her what she does. “Oh my husband is into sheep,” she tells me. “Isn’t everyone’s husband?” I blurted.

Tuesday 2 pm
I decide not to attempt any more humour in New Zealand. Simon is an absolute gentleman and even allows me to pull him down to my standard by shooting the same score. No one breaks par on a tough day and my ordinary round looks all right. Sydney’s Richard Beer comes closer than anyone else to beating the old course with even par.

Thursday 11.30 am
First round of the New Zealand PGA Seniors Championship at the beautiful but tough Wairakei International Golf Course in Taupo. We are in carts and I have drawn two other pros named Paul and Grant. Sandra joins me in the cart and is a calming influence when I miss countless putts. That’s until she whispers to me that Grant has a cute arse. I’m shattered and drop 3 shots on the last 4 holes.

Friday 11.30 am
Second round and I’m playing with Aussie legend, Terry Gale. This makes me a little toey so I steal an extra cart and give Sandra another chance. Surely I have a better arse than Terry! He is great and I don’t feel intimidated at all. When Tezza and I are back in the clubhouse toasting our wonderful new friendship, Sandra suddenly appears with some exciting news. “There is a painting of you in the ladies toilets!” Sure enough there I was, immortalised over the hand basin.

A number of years and kilos ago a famous artist who specialised in scenes from golf courses used me as his model in a painting of Bowral. He ran off 500 prints and sold them to golf clubs all over the world. I have one in my lounge room. Wairaikei has one in their dunny.

Saturday 8.30 am
Final round and former winner of this event, John Clifford has the pleasure of my company. After copping the wrath of the officials for “grand cart theft auto” I leave Sandra at home and ride with Cliffo. I finally have my first birdie of the tournament and get a group hug.

Saturday 3.30 pm
Presentation is over and I join a couple of Aussie greats Noel Ratcliffe and my former idol, David Good for a drink.

Saturday 4.30 pm
I’m telling David just how bloody good he actually was. My mate Don returns to the course after a nap and joins us for glass of Pinot Noir.

Saturday 5.30 pm
I’m telling David just how bloody good he still is and Don is doing his best to catch up with the Pinot.

Saturday 6.30 pm
I’m asking David to marry me and Don has definitely caught up.

Former New Zealand farmer, who turned pro in his forties, Jim Lapsley wins with three great rounds from Aussie Dave Merriman.

Wednesday 1.30 pm
First round of the TV 3 Rebel Sports legends Pro-Am at The Lakes Resort at Pauanui. The course is terrifying and the wind is gale force. Appropriately, I have drawn Terry Gale again. It’s one of the toughest days I have spent on a golf course since I split my pants in a Queensland Open one year.

Tezz and I grind out a decent score with good back nines but we both have migraines.

Thursday 8.30 am
I draw Hugh Dolan from Queensland who is a champ of a bloke. Hughy has out played me all day but I birdie a couple towards the end and he lets a couple slip. He shakes my hand at the end and thanks me for the game… without moving his teeth.

Friday 4pm
We are flying home and Sandra and I are standing in the customs queue. I spot “Unplayable Lie Head” on one of the counters and steer Sandra up the other end.

Friday 7.30 pm
I’m in Sydney showing another customs bloke my shoes. I’m tempted to say that the only dangerous disease or an animal in New Zealand is a Kiwi with sinus. In a loving way, Sandra whispers to me, “Don’t you say a word, deck head” She has picked up a bit of an accent.

Saturday 6 am
I’m back behind the counter of my pro-shop at Highlands Golf Club with members asking me how was my holiday. I know they mean well but after the 12th time I have explained that Golf Pros go away to play for money not a bloody holiday, I’m starting to get the shits.

Saturday 9 am
The president of Highlands asks me how my holiday was. I reply “Yeah, great thanks Pete”.