The Tavistock Cup in Orlando gave Colin Byrne a relaxing run-up to the Augusta Masters

After the rigours of a week at the uncompromising Stadium course at Sawgrass, rush hour on Monday morning in Orlando, Florida was not exactly the ideal start to the next week. The traffic was even worse the closer we got to the Isleworth estate. The two-day Tavistock Cup event was due to commence before midday and the world's best golfer, also a resident of Isleworth, was due to play in the first match. The privileged guests (only residents and their guests got to spectate) were not going to miss a shot, not even a practice shot.

I was transporting both myself and my player's clubs to the course. The residents of the opposing team, Lake Nona, were catching the first helicopter from their leafy environs across to the other side of town. Unfortunately there was no room for clubs or caddies. We pulled up to the keepers' lodge where the security guards' buttons had a richer gleam to them than on the average security guard's tunic. The sun broke through the foliage adorning the main avenue to the clubhouse and illuminated the very large and mostly tasteful abodes.

This is not where the poor folks live. I have never been to an estate where the art work dispersed about the golf course would put most national museum's to shame. There was a Max Ernst sculpture on the 10th tee and a very large piece of industrial art which for want of a better description looks like a big colourful windmill. One of them is reputed to be worth $10 million, not being an art expert I couldn't figure out which one.

The opening ceremony began with a deferential introduction of the Tavistock Cup's founder and sponsor Joe Lewis, who incidentally owns both Lake Nona and Isleworth. Apparently he had been in four different countries on three different continents over four days before arriving back in Orlando to oversee the proceedings at the most exclusive club championships in the world. His schedule was one that most of the golfers and caddies could relate to.

The teams were introduced by the Isleworth captain, Mark O'Meara, and the Lake Nona leader, Ernie Els.There were banners bordering the driving range with the names of the major winners who have been known to reside on both estates.

The range was well surrounded. But the meltdown seems to have begun already. Nick Faldo was sick and couldn't join his Lake Nona colleagues. Nor could Annika Sorenstam, the only lady who had represented Lake Nona in the previous two events, make the two-day event. With the change of schedule next year and the imminent departure of some of the more esteemed residents it will be interesting to see who represents the teams in the future.

There are more than 10 well-qualified tour pros who have homes in Lake Nona, most of them are non-Americans. There was a suggestion that there should be a play-off for the last spot on the team. The younger members would have been happy to play-off for a spot in the lucrative match. The dropouts saved any embarrassment for the more mature residents who certainly did not want to get involved in play-offs for a place in such a relaxed event and in the end everyone who wanted to play got a game.

Under the shadow of the expensive artwork on the first tee, the Saladore Dali-like figure of Gary McCord loomed. The TV announcer with his very original facial hair and irreverent sense of humour didn't let us down setting the teams on their way. Tiger and Mark O'Meara played my man, Retief Goosen, and Sergio Garcia in the first match.Tiger needed no introduction and his partner wished he hadn't been announced at all. Because the witty McCord referred to the senior member of this fourball as Tiger Woods' "bitch". Belly-aching laughter for the opening match is always a good kick-off. It is hard to compete with Tiger on his home track, let alone try to contribute to the fourball, better-ball format of the first day's play. McCord may well have had a point in his introduction .

The home team of Isleworth won the third Tavistock Cup quite convincingly by a five-point margin. As I watched the team accept their trophy it struck me that wherever you go people set up enclaves.

The team is made up strictly of Americans and Australians and Lake Nona represents the rest of the world apart from the token American, Ben Curtis.

Despite having freedom of choice it is interesting how certain people still follow the leaders.

With fine cuisine and a fully stocked bar at our disposal naturally us caddies lingered in the clubhouse after the ceremonies had concluded. After all, the players had their helicopter to catch back home again. Some of us had to prepare for the trip to Atlanta the next day as we were due to tee it up in the BellSouth Classic pro-am on Wednesday.

The convenience of a private jet to a local airfield was negated by heavy fog in the Atlanta area, which meant we had to land in the international airport. The flip side was that the pro-am was reduced to nine holes. A 7.20am tee-time on Thursday left both myself and Retief wondering just where we were and what were we doing in near darkness on the range as we warmed up and waited for sun-up and another event to begin without the last one hardly finished.

The Sugarloaf course is usually good preparation for this week's event at Augusta. This is the reason Retief likes to play.

With similar undulations and very unpredictable wind switches, you begin to get used to having very little idea about where the wind is blowing from over many shots due to funnels being created by tall pine trees and the generally whimsical nature of a light and very variable wind. In theory you should be getting more comfortable with the uncertainty by the time you reach Amen Corner at Augusta next Thursday.

Having experienced the exclusive and tasteful Isleworth estate in Orlando earlier last week, the Sugarloaf demesne outside Atlanta appeared positively nouveau.

The majority of houses surrounding the course looked big enough to operate as small hotels. As one of my fellow workers pointed out the only thing that is missing is melted cheese dripping down the sides of them. Many American restaurants have a penchant for smothering their food in cheese.

The Tavistock, BellSouth week may have been a little confusing. There is no doubt about where I am today. I am hitching my white boiler suit on and striding the impeccable fairways of Augusta National amid the soft southern tones of the old moneyed set of this intriguing place .