Wild Bill you may ask? That's me folks, named by my playing partners this week Rory McIlroy and Peter Hanson, and we know who The Kid is of course from last week. (The Jockey in case you missed an instalment)

This week's entertainment all came by way of the golf for once. "Thank goodness!" I hear you cry, and you are right of course - it's all very well having tales to tell of life on the road, but I am supposed to be out here earning a living and competing with my peers,  and finally by hook or by crook (or more specifically by slice) I finished seventh in Qatar.

Normally when you finish in the top ten of a European Tour event, you've played pretty darn nice golf for four days, holed a few putts and wished things could have just gone your way a little more to have given you a chance to win. However, that's not exactly the way it went for me this week.

Full of promise after hitting every fairway in the Pro-Am, I stood on the first tee at Doha Golf Club on Thursday morning, and as always on the first I was introduced to 'the gallery' by the ever present Ivor Robson, the tour's official starter. The gallery then proceeded to fly off to look for worms elsewhere, which left just the seven of us to savour the occasion.

It was quite breezy for 8.00am and the wind was helping a touch, making the par five first hole reachable in two. Five Star reached for the driver, and with a confident look in his eye told me the line was the right hand corner of the tallest tree in the distance. I went through my routine, took dead aim, and with no trouble at all slashed the ball straight right towards the desert. My first provisional ball of the week was struck soon after.

Still, a par was made and on to the second I went (don't worry, I'm not going to talk you through the whole round). Again driver was chosen, line was discussed, swing was made, fore was shouted, ball was in desert, second provisional ball was struck. Two for two - well done Howeller, really good start, excellent!

And so it was that the week was destined to be anything but boring. In fact, I shall list the unusual happenings now so I don't forget any:

- Provisional balls struck - seven. Lost balls - none
- Club heads that came loose on course - one
- Fifty seater busses in my way, moved by tour official Paul Carrigill, to enable me to see the green as I was on the wrong hole - one
- Incidents of Five Star laughing at me for playing crap - one
- Incidents of me saying to Five Star "Why on earth I ever listen to you is beyond me" -one (touché)
- Number of fairways hit on the first three days - twelve (that's in total, not each day)
- Emergency calls made to coach on Saturday evening suggesting he gets his backside on the 6.50am flight to Doha so we can work out why my playing partners are calling me Wild Bill - one
- Boulders moved to enable myself to extricate my ball from the desert - fourteen. Birdies made from such position - one. Look on playing partners faces - priceless.

So as you can imagine, it was not boring golf to say the least. In fact, it got so bad that when discussing our afternoon plans for Friday whilst walking down the tenth fairway, and I said to The Jockey that I had to participate in a golf clinic at 2.00pm, his reply was "For your sake I hope it is a short game clinic".

I guess by now you're wondering why I seem to be so negative about my week when it was my best finish for over a year? Well, I'm not really. All these things did happen, but my short game was so hot this week that it made up for almost anything I did badly. Now, you can't win a tournament playing like this (hence I finished ten shots back from Adam Scott who shot 61 on Sunday) but as I have just proved I can finish seventh. And boy am I proud of that.

Coach Clive did make it to Doha for Sunday morning, bless him, and it was more than worthwhile. Sunday stats: 12 fairways hit, 69 scored. He knows his stuff, it just needs me to put it into practice and we'll be off and running.

Sunday was an important day for me as I tried to take to Clive's instructions onto the course. I hit the ball so much better, playing some really nice golf on the back nine. The result was important, but without the boost that actually playing well from tee to green has given me, it may have been worthless. With it I now have something concrete to take into the Desert Classic next week. Hopefully Wild Bill will not make the trip.

As I mentioned earlier, the first two rounds were spent in the company of Rory McIlroy - the young star from Northern Ireland - and he is some talent I can tell you. I made my way onto the tour at twenty years of age and was as unprepared as I could possibly have been, although thank goodness things went well for me. Rory is eighteen, looks fifteen, and plays like he has been on tour all his life. He is going to have a big future I am sure.

Eighteen years is about how long Andrew Coltart has been on tour, and like me Andrew has had a tough year or so, which is why it was great to see him play so well last week. Unfortunately he finished just outside the top ten, which would have gained him entry to the Dubai Desert Classic this week. Great to see and it just goes to show you never know when things are going to turn around.

In 2003, Qatar was the tournament where I ended my only other really bad year on tour (after breaking my arm) with a fourth place finish, exactly one year on from the last top ten I had. I went on to have a great five year run and I really hope history will repeat itself.

Seventh place in Qatar is not exactly anything to shout about but for my team members and support group I am really pleased, especially The Jockey, who is the newest member of Team Howell, and the only one to not have tasted any kind of success with me. So thanks for keeping faith with me pal and turning down all those job offers you have received in the last few months - Tesco, Sainsbury's and Morrisons have all called to offer night work but you turned them all away to continue to chase your dreams, which must be tough in your king size bedded, en-suite bathroomed, beach facing five-star hotel room.