I was woken just after 7am by screaming outside. "Oh Tiger!" said my beautiful wife, Elin. "Fans. They think you're a god."
"I don't feel like a god," I said. "Not with my broken leg and my ACL procedure and all. Y'know, sweetie, it's hard. I feel – kinda – human."
"Oh Tiger, honey, no!" said Elin. "You want me to fix you a bap? Bacon? Extra brown sauce? Let's get you in the den, switch on the British Open. How much fun did we have on day one?"
It was a whole bunch of fun. Watching world-class golfers, plus my good friend Colin Montgomerie – whose remarks all those years ago about my lack of experience are just so history – on the the BBC, with some of the world's best presenters, and Gary Lineker, takes some beating.
But I couldn't shake it off. I needed air. I hopped outside, crossed the yard, walked across the pool. It wasn't fans screaming at all. It was next door's Colombian maid, Juanita.
"Mr Tiger, Mr Tiger, eez Camilo Villegas! Eez win at the British Open!" she cried. "Eez birdie, birdie, birdie, birdie, birdie! Eez seexty-five! Eez Spider Man! Eez Vee-jay-gaaaaaas!"
Jeepers! I've been saying it wrong all this time. O'Meara told me it was Camilo Bee–Jay–zus. I thought the kid was from Dublin.
Back on the couch, Elin was still doing everything she could to get into British Open mood. "Another PG Tips, luv?" she said. I dig her put-on British accent. "Eight quid, mate. And I ain't got change." Golly, I miss being in England.
"Tiger, honey? Is it mandatory to have an animal in the lead if you're not there?" asked Elin.
"No, sweetie, it's just an accident that a Shark is leading."
"I didn't know sharks could live that long," Elin said, in awe as Greg Norman holed out for par on the 18th.
Just at that moment Sam Alexis came toddling in. Jeez, kids are amazing fun, aren't they? "Goose! Goose!" she said, eyeing my cast, jabbering nonsense.
"Great impression, honey," said Elin.
"Now, now sweetie, it's important to show respect," I said. "Retief didn't mean to be offensive, I'm sure, saying I was faking."
"Oh Tiger, honey, you could have won this crawling, with one arm, in a sack," said Elin, as Sergio went bogey, double-bogey on 10 and 11. "Not at all," I chuckled. That ticklish cast again.
As imagined by Nick Harris