It's certainly the most beautiful.

I usually eat lunch at the club and try to get a round in myself in the afternoon. The standard of my golf is no threat to anyone despite my having played for nearly 50 years now.

I go home for a while in the early evening, have dinner, watch some sport I've recorded earlier in the day, and then go back to the club for presentations.

Next Sunday will be a bit of a day off for me. Puck Sunday is the Ladies' Open Day in Dooks and I'm not needed. It's just as well as I'll have had a late night on the Saturday. You tend to take up conversations where you left them off the year before. It's very much a homecoming festival.

A while back there was an attempt to have the licensing hours brought back from 3am to 2am but the judge left things as they stood. He didn't feel there was any threat to public order . . .

it's a very goodnatured festival. I was an expert witness.

There are plenty of good stories about the origin of Puck Fair. The first written record dates from 1613, when King James I gave permission to the local landowner, Jenkins Conway, as Baron of the Fair, to charge tithes to the farmers bringing their cattle into Killorglin to sell.

Nobody knows when it actually started, though it's generally accepted that it's a mix of pagan, Celtic and Norman traditions. Puck always takes place on 10, 11 and 12 August.

The feast of St Laurence is 11 August and honouring the saint forms part of the tradition.

The first day is known as the Gathering Day. There's a horse fair which used to take place on the streets of the town but was moved into a field on the outskirts five or six years ago for health and safety reasons. It's become huge . . . there are lots of affluent parents around these days. In the early evening we have a parade of floats and marching bands culminating in the crowning of the goat by the Queen of Puck. This year the Queen is Caoimhe O'Sullivan who's 12. She won an essay competition to win the crown.

Frank Joy, a local farmer, is the official goat catcher. There are herds of wild goats on the Macgillicuddy Reeks and he heads out a week or so before Puck to find the king. He looks for an animal with a wide horn span, about eight or nine years old. A few years back he found a wonderful specimen with magnificent black and white colouring. That went down very well with our main sponsor. The goat is checked out by a vet but, contrary to rumour, there's no beautician involved. The Queen crowns the goat in a speech given in four languages and 'An Poc ar Buile' is sung.

There's free entertainment around the town all evening. On the Saturday there's a street fair with 200 or so cattle being traded. I have great memories of Jean Kennedy-Smith paying us a visit a few years back and picking her way daintily through the agricultural fallout in her high heels.

The last day of Puck . . . next Sunday . . . is the Scattering Day.

There are events for children and the goat is de-throned and returned to the mountain. I'll take the opportunity to wander around the market stalls . . . over 200 of them . . . and savour the atmosphere. Eating at Puck tends to be unplanned; you grab whatever's handy.

In Killorglin everything revolves around Puck: if you're doing a job in the house it'll be before Puck or after Puck. So there can be a bit of an air of depression around the place as it comes to an end for another year. We've instigated a massive 15-minute firework display on the banks of the River Laune for Sunday evening to lift everyone's spirits.

In conversation with Katy McGuinness