Barwon Heads, a rustic seaside venue Barwon Heads, a rustic seaside venue. Images: Getty Images

And so I take in another glass of wine (for the team) under an umbrella amidst tables with blue-and-white bunting, and eat a super-tender steak sandwich with local chutney while looking at attractive local folks getting merry in the marquee. People are Sunday-best-dressed, kids muck about on the grass and a happy dad plays his eight-year-old son like a guitar as a solo guitarist knocks out a version of You Shook Me All Night Long. There’s bocce on the lawn and everyone’s bubbling away in the bubbly, three-or-four-glasses-of-fine-wine way. Sunday arvo gold. So then I have a glass of pinot noir.

Dinner that evening is “At The Heads” at Barwon Heads, a rustic seaside venue where I enjoy a corner table with a view of the bay and the tides and an old boat moored and bobbing about on the briny. Now, I’ve eaten a scallop or two in my time. But the scallops at At The Heads, wrapped in prosciutto and served on a scrape of cauliflower puree with some sweet sticky sauce, are the best ever. Best. Scallops. Ever. Jesus on a rocketship, they’re good. Pop in your mouth succulent, salty, divine. Later I enjoy a lump of eye fillet so good it could be embalmed and put in a steak museum. And I think, “I will be back here and I will bring my mates and we will feast like Vikings.” So then I have a glass of pinot noir.

And so to day three of this ridiculous affront to the gods of labour, and to Barwon Heads, the course a golf magazine mate reckons is “the best on the Bellarine”. It’s another track of good-sized landing areas bordered by ti-tree and dune-side scrub, and more of those Moonah trees from Africa with their high canopy and leopards, though there are no leopards. It’s another one with a beautiful surface of clipped couch with its little white shoots and perfect lies.

Another tip: if you want to score well, particularly on your first go around, and take the money off your friends, leave your ego in the bag. Cop the ribbing. Because, sometimes on a 400m par-four, you’re not going to reach the green in two shots. And nor should you try. Hit fairway with driver. Take a hybrid to 100m. Hit the green and putt for par, and walk away with bogey if you miss. Because, left and right is sand, ti-tree and trouble.

Anyway, I could tell you how nice it is at Barwon Heads GC, but we only have so much space. So get onto Google and check out some pictures. It’s scrumptious. You could eat it. The clubhouse is huge and looks like a ski lodge for happy Austrians. The balcony overlooks the 18th fairway and green and would be a choice spot to have a beer and watch golfers play their way home, sun-dried and happy.

And so with lunchtime to gather my thoughts before a mid-afternoon flight home, I sit in a little diner called Elkhorn Road House. I’ve a latte and some sort of passionfruit cake, after a delicious bacon-and-egg quiche with salad, and chutney, and fabulous vinaigrette, feeling like some sort of French gourmand person, from Provence, perhaps, or Sardinia, who’s into gourmet foods. And I muse: “I’ll be back, with a group of pals, and a mini-bus.”